Page 128 of Forever Dead

The owner laughed without humor. “Then maybe you should ask yourself why you’re doing his job.”

Connor left before he said something he could not take back.

Outside, the afternoon had turned colder. He got into the SUV and shut the door.

The bar remained visible through the windshield. The owner was inside moving kegs while the inspector wrote at a table.

Connor checked the time.

One twenty-eight.

Malone's was closed to the public until the hazards were corrected and the fire marshal's office completed its reinspection. Its liquor license remained intact.

Morimer had demanded that the bar stop trading by five, and Connor had given him that much.

The violations were real. Connor had invented none of them, and the closure order had come from the fire marshal's office rather than from him.

None of that changed why he had walked through the door.

Morimer had pulled the string, and Connor had moved.

He stared at the phone on the passenger seat. Calling Morimer would only confirm obedience. Better to make him find out some other way.

Connor started the engine. Part of him wanted to hit the highway and never come back.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

By half past two, Selena had switched off the television at the motel and given up on her paperback.

Her physical therapist had told her to increase her activity gradually, and yesterday’s fall at the station had given her reason to take that advice seriously. She had completed her wrist exercises and taken a short walk, but the rest of the day stretched ahead of her.

Her thoughts kept returning to Eleanor Marsh, Patricia Vanes and the unidentified black fragments beneath their fingernails.

Connor’s message about Patricia’s emails had raised more questions than it answered.

Selena picked up her phone.

Connor answered on the fourth ring. “Hey.”

“Are you driving?”

“Back toward Elmsview. What’s up, Selena?”

“Your message. Has Dana found anything that identifies who contacted Patricia?”

“Not yet. She’s pursuing the email records. Arnold’s checking Patricia’s private nursing work and whether she had any contact with Curtis Halle.”

“What about Ginnie Williams?”

“He’s checking her account, too.”

“And the Tully house?”

“There was a lockbox code in Patricia’s emails. We’re comparing it against the booking records to find out who had access.”

“That could get us somewhere.”

“I hope so.”