“Didye ever see her with anyone?”
Shepursed her lips and squinted her eyes, as if by doing so she could peer intothe past. “Idinnaethink so, no. She always seemedto be alone, the poor thing.” Then, with a shake of her head, she broughtherself back to the present, smiled and gestured at us to follow her through adoor behind the desk. “Come with me, ye can take a look at whatever ye need.”
“Weappreciate it,” I muttered, before glancing at Rosie, who hadn't bothered tolook at me or talk since our conversation this morning.
Thewoman pulled a large book from a shelf behind a small desk and laid it out.After asking what dates we were specifically looking for, she flipped throughthe pages, scanning one long-fingered nail over names and lines, until finallyshe stopped and pointed at the upper left corner of the page.
“Hereye go,” she said, then headed toward the door. “Take all the time ye need. Andif ye needanythin' else, pleasedinnaehesitate to ask for me. My name’s Agnes.”
“It'sappreciated, Agnes. Thank ye,” I replied, regarding her with a polite smile.
Then,with another nod and a shake of her bouncy curls, she left us and closed thedoor behind her. Rosie immediately sat at the desk to scan thepages, whenI stopped her with a hand over the jotted lines.
“Rosie.Can I just saysomethin'?”
Sheshook her head. “Let's just do what we came here for, okay?”
“Please?”
Witha disgruntled sigh, she lifted her head and glared at me. Her eyes were heavilyhooded, bloodshot, and supported by deep circles of purple. It had been stupidof me to not fully see the depth of her exhaustion before, and instinctively, Ireached out to lay my palm against her cheek.
“Christ,ye need to sleep.”
“Isthat what you wanted to say?” she asked, brushing my hand from her face.“Because believe me, I'm aware. I totally plan on sleeping for a month when Iget back home, don't worry.”
Ishook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose. “No. No, that's not—”
“Wait,”she interrupted in a rush. “What was your partner's name?”
Droppingmy hand, I narrowed my eyes at her curiously and said, “Finley. Why?”
“Finley,what? Just Finley? The guy doesn’t have a first name?”
Shakingmy head, I blinked rapidly as I struggled to collect my thoughts, stilldesperately wanting to say what I had to tell her. “Ah, no, it's Brian. BrianFinley.”
Sheshoved the book toward me and thrust a finger at the page. I bent over to lookat the scrawled signature, and as my eyes slowly began to widen, she asked,“You mean, likethisBrian Finley?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
ALEC
Withmy heart hammering in my ears, I stared at the name, clearly written on thepage, just below Grace Allan's young and bubbly signature. I opened my mouth tospeak, but with my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth, I couldn't release somuch as an incoherent stutter.
“Oh,my God, Alec, look at the room numbers,” Rosie said, her breath catching in herthroat with a blend of morbid excitement and adrenaline.
Iglanced again at the book, to see Grace had stayed in room twelve, and when Isaw that Finley had been put into number fourteen, I closed my eyes to the pageand shook my head.
“Fuckin'hell,” I croaked, reaching up with both hands to grip my hair. “Fuckin’hell!how is thishappenin’?”
“He'sgottabe the one who did it, right?” she asked,bolting up from the chair. It slid from beneath her and hit the bookshelfagainst the wall with a jostled clatter. “Right?”
Inodded, turning in a slow circle around the small office. “Aye. It certainlyseems that way.”
“So… so, youhave togo get him, right? You have toarrest him?”
Mystomach was struck with pang after agonizing pang at the thought of arrestingmy partner, but hadn't I already realized this could've been a possibility? Ihad known from the start that someone in law enforcement had committed thecrime, or at least someone with the power to manipulate the case. That was thevery reason why I had set out to investigate the case on my own. But now, facedwith the reality that I hadn't imagined it all, I edged dangerously on theverge of vomiting.
“Alec?”
