“Customer,” Freeman said, smiling apologetically. He slid across the leather seat and out of the booth, standing up with an exaggerated groan, hand pressed to the small of his back. He picked up his empty beer bottle, pointed to her own Bud Light. “You want another?”

Jessica had barely touched the drink during their conversation. “No thanks. This one’s still pretty full.”

“No problem. It’s on the house.”

“Cool, thanks.”

Holliday caught her eye and smiled as he walked over to the bar. Jessica’s cheeks burned, and she looked down and studied the label on the beer bottle like it was the most interesting thing she’d ever read. She took a long drink. Sneaked another look at Holliday while he placed his order.

Black jeans, gray tee, damp hair. No messenger bag.

Jessica took one last slug from the bottle, grabbed her own bag, and made her way quickly to the exit. As she passed him, Holliday grabbed her arm softly. “Hey, you’re not leaving already, are you? I just bought you a drink.”

Two beers sat on the counter, looking almost as tempting as Jack Holliday did himself.

Jessica shook her arm free. “Sorry, I gotta go.”

He looked disappointed, and her stomach did a weird little flip, but she knew any interest Holliday had in her was purely about the case. She pushed open the door. The night air felt good on her flushed face as she walked briskly along York toward the motel.

Most of the shops and cafés were closed, but there were still folks around. A couple strolled arm in arm across the street. Some teenage kids careered past on skateboards. Twilight had claimed the day, but it wasn’t full dark just yet, and Jessica glanced back every few yards just to be sure she wasn’t being tailed by anyone on foot or by car. But she didn’t have the same feeling of being watched as she’d had the night before, and she saw no one hiding in the shadows or any sign of a black SUV with tinted windows.

When Jessica reached the Blue Moon Inn, the lights in the lobby were blazing brightly, and she could see Hopper behind the desk flicking through a magazine. He looked up as she passed the window and smiled and gave her a friendly wave. She returned the gesture and made a mental note to speak to him tomorrow about Eleanor Lavelle’s stay at the motel and the rumors about their relationship.

Right now, she had more pressing business to take care of.

She loped past rooms 1 through 4, and when she reached her own, she kept walking. She stopped outside room 6 and glanced around in what she hoped was a casual sort of way. Like she was a guest about to turn in for the night, instead of someone about to commit a felony.