Somehow, the fact that Ashley didn’t get how rude it was made Logan even angrier. She grabbed the rest of Ashley’s things—a purse, a hair tie, and a set of car keys—from the breakfast table and shoved them into Ashley’s hands. “There’s a window in the bathroom if you wanna sneak out. Maybe if you—”
Ashley scrolled through the notifications on her phone. “Wait.”
“No, really, it’s cool. I don’t think it’s super rude to act like you’re embarrassed to be here.”
“Wait.” Ashley’s eyes were fixed on her phone screen, wide with panic. Before Logan could ask what was wrong, Ashley slammed her phone on the nightstand and tore open the motel door. Logan hesitated behind her. She tapped Ashley’s phone and read the stream of messages:
BUG: i’m checking out the motel wanna come?
BUG: just got here
BUG: are you asleep?
BUG: just called
BUG: are you HERE???
BUG: i see your truck in the parking lot
BUG: there’s a man out here. don’t come outside.
“Shit,” Logan muttered. She threw on a pair of sandals and rushed outside.
The motel parking lot was at once chaos and dead silence. Two police cruisers were parked in the lot, and now that she was outside, it was clear that the gray van she’d seen earlier read OWYHEE COUNTY CORONER across the side. Logan spotted Ashley on a bench near the pizza stand, eyes fixed on a point in the distance like she’d been powered down. Sheriff Paris sat next to her with a hand on her shoulder. He shook his head and said nothing.
Ashley didn’t move.
The wind off the lake rang in Logan’s ears. She’d been right inside; she would’ve heard something. She would’ve known there was someone dying just outside her room. The door behind Logan opened and a hand grabbed her wrist. She pushed the stranger away before recognizing it was Alejo.
“Logan,” Alejo said. He tenderly squeezed her wrist, tugging her back to reality. “Come back inside. You don’t need to be out here.”
“What happened?” Logan mumbled.
An Owyhee County deputy strung caution tape across the length of the parking lot. A man she didn’t recognize paced the area, snapping photos.
“It’s all gonna be okay,” Alejo said, “but we need to stay inside.”
Logan tugged her wrist free. “What happened?”
“Is everything okay over here?” Another deputy approached cautiously. He was at least ten years younger than Sheriff Paris. The tag on his uniform shirt read GOLDEN, like the police receptionist.
“Everything’s fine, Tommy,” Alejo said. “We just wanna get out of your way.”
“Actually, I need to talk to your daughter.” Tommy Golden put a hand on his hip. “I know it’s a lot to take in right now. We can talk here or at the station. Up to you.”
“Can I talk to Ashley?” Logan asked. Her voice was muddled in the wind. She felt like she was drowning.
“You can in a bit. Ashley has some questions to answer, too.”
“I wanna talk to her now.”
“Logan,” Alejo warned.
“You’re not in trouble, Miss Ortiz.” Golden gave her a weary, half-baked smile. He wore his grief plain on his face. “I just need to know if you heard anything last night. If you maybe saw anyone outside.”
“We understand,” Alejo said. He took Logan’s hand again. “You could question all three of us at once. Maybe it’d save you some time.”