“What was Sarah doing for the operation?”
“Go fuck yourself, Phan. Let me go.”
“We made a deal, Stanley. You help me clear your name from suspicion in Sarah’s murder, and I’ll set you free.”
“I never signed up for that deal.”
“And you also haven’t cleared your name, so I’m wondering why you’d bother asking to leave.”
Stanley closed his eyes, let out a long breath. “Fernanda was in my room for five minutes at the most.”
“Meaning she was out of there by, what, seven forty? Seven forty-five at the latest?”
“Sounds about right, Mister Holmes.”
“That’s the funny thing—I didn’t see you go into the motel’s cafe until seven fifty-five. That’s a ten-minute gap. What was happening in the meantime?”
“I sawyoufor one thing. Skulking around the side of the motel when I came out onto the front porch. Where did you even go?”
Ryan wasn’t about to answer that question. He said nothing.
“I know you cut my tires, Phan,” Stanley said.
This was a genuine surprise. “I did what?”
“Don’t play dumb,” Stanley said. “Go look at them yourself. They’ve all got a nice big hole in the side. Not that it’ll make much difference. That van’s part of the work fleet. Those tires are run-flats.”
Ryan took another hit of his cigarette. “I don’t think they’d get you very far if you tried to leave tonight. You’d be risking a run-in with the local wildlife.”
“You think I’d ever leave this place without Penelope?”
“I think youstillhaven’t answered my questions,” Ryan said.
“I’m not going to talk about Sarah. Go get that fire poker Fernanda used on my head. See how far that gets you.”
“Then what were you doing before dinner? Fernanda left your room at seven forty, maybe seven forty-five. You came to dinner at five minutes ’til eight. That gave you plenty of time to head over toSarah’s room and have your way with her. It makes you, quite frankly, the prime suspect here.”
Ryan flicked the cap of his Zippo up and down, up, down:click-clack.
Click-clack.
Click-clack.
Stanley finally blinked, like he realized Ryan sincerely expected an answer. The big man scowled, then looked briefly puzzled, almost like he himself wasn’t entirely certain what hehadbeen up to. He blinked again, squirmed in his chair, his brain clearly struggling to bring something back.
And then a look of absolute terror came over Stanley Holiday, a fear unlike anything Ryan had seen in a long, long time. The big man froze. He turned pale.
“You still with us?” Ryan said. “Stanley?”
“I… I don’t remember,” Stanley said, though it was clear from his voice this was a lie. He’d clearly recalled something in that moment, something he’d blissfully forgotten until now. He stared at Ryan. He staredthroughRyan, through the walls of the room, through the desert. “I don’t remember.”
Ryan kept trying for a while, but it was no good. Stan Holiday was lost in his mind, deep in a memory, trembling at what he’d found there.
NOT LIKE THE LAST ONESETHAN
11:00 p.m.
This place was trying to torture him. For the past hour, the generator had gone down and up, down and up, bringing with every pocket of darkness a new wave ofSHRIEKSfollowed by a strange half-light: a gloaming of mercury vapor, the power struggling to return. Familiar faces had appeared to Ethan in that half-light. Shades that dissipated like smoke when the lamps hummed back up.
