I could use him for background checks on Bruyn, Kennedy, and Cody Radu, but I reminded myself that I had an official partner on this—Jesse. If I needed help, I should go to him. Better yet, I should do it myself when I got to the motel.

So I sent another text. I’m good. Will call l8r.

One word: ok. I closed the phone and headed back to the diner. I had no idea what kind of reception I’d get there. Probably be kicked out on my ass. But I needed information, and this was the best place to get it.

Turned out Bruyn had already called Lorraine to spread the word that he’d appreciate any help folks could give me and Kennedy, citing my line about the girls deserving the best investigation possible.

That was all the encouragement the diner patrons needed. This was the kind of town where detectives and private investigators are mythical beings found only on a TV screen. I haven’t been cooler since my senior year, when I showed up at school on my motorcycle.

I regaled my new friends with tales of the dangerous and adventurous life of a PI. Yep, I lied. I’ve learned that no one’s particularly impressed with my stories of long, treacherous days spent navigating the deadly waters of the Internet, conducting background searches.

Once I figured I’d done my duty, I demonstrated a real-life application of those cool PI skills by questioning the patrons about the murders. I asked about the victims, but their answers boiled down to this: They didn’t know Claire, and the other two had been addicted to everything, good for nothing.

“Now, just a second,” Lorraine said after her customers had fallen silent. “Ginny could be decent enough if you got her alone. She was just weak, doing whatever Brandi wanted. It was like that from the time they were kids.”

“Maybe so,” Jacob said. “But let’s face it—those girls ended up right where everyone expected them to, as much as we might have wished otherwise. If Chief Bruyn wasn’t exactly twisting himself in knots to solve the murders, that’s why.”

“Oh, that’s not why,” Lorraine muttered.

“Is it something to do with Paula Thompson?” I said. “I got the feeling there was bad blood between her and Bruyn.”

Lorraine shook her head, unwilling to answer. Jacob didn’t share her qualms. “Paula worked for him,” he said. “Until she got tired of running and quit.”

“Running?”

“Around and around the desk. Chief Bruyn had a thing for her. But Paula? She runs fast.”

A chorus of laughter from everyone within hearing distance.

“Paula’s a smart cookie,” Lorraine said. “After she had Ginny, she got a lot more careful about men.”

“Another lesson Ginny never learned,” Jacob said.

Lots of solemn nods on that one.

“You mean Ginny’s boyfriend, right?” I said. “A local guy?”