“And Logan’s dads? Did you see them, too?”
Tammy grimaced.
“No, I didn’t see them.”
Paris nodded. “Did you hear anything from their room?”
“No.”
“Did you see their car in the parking lot?”
“I…” Ashley paused. “I didn’t look.”
“I understand.” Paris straightened a stack of paperwork and put it in a box at the corner of his desk. “Do you think it’s possible either Brandon Woodley or Alejo Ortiz left their room while you were there last night?”
Ashley was quiet. She understood now, maybe too late, what Paris was saying. And even though her instinct was to say no, it wasn’t possible that the Ortiz-Woodleys had done this, it felt like a lie. People were still dying, and Tristan was still missing. She had promised Logan she wouldn’t jump to conclusions. That felt like years ago now.
And she had seen someone outside the motel.
“I … yeah. It’s possible.”
“Frank, you don’t think they…？” Tammy said. Her expression was complicated—Ashley thought her mother would be more excited that the Ortiz-Woodleys were finally on the table. Tammy just looked disappointed.
“We’ve had suspicions for a while, but without a credible witness, we can’t make an arrest.” Sheriff Paris fixed Ashley with a hard stare. “I know how hard this is. You’re still in shock. Logan is your friend. I’m friends with the family, too. But you were there when it happened. You’re our only chance to get it right.”
“Tell him the truth, Ashley,” Tammy warned.
Ashley closed her eyes. There were two paths ahead of her, both tugging at her and both pushing her away. When she looked ahead, she saw nothing but darkness. She’d lost so much already—Tristan, Nick, Bug, and something more than them. She’d lost the Snakebite she knew. She’d lost the feeling of home. She wondered how much more pain she could take.
She thought of Logan.
She wished she’d had a chance to say goodbye, because she was about to lose Logan, too.
“Ashley,” Sheriff Paris said, fist clenched on his desk, “do you know who could’ve been in that parking lot?”
Ashley took a deep breath and opened her eyes.
“Yes.”
26
An Apple Off The Cleaven Trunk
“This is Ashley. I’m not here. Leave a message!”
It was Logan’s fifth time hearing Ashley’s stupid outgoing voice mail message. It’d been hours and there was no way she was still at the police station. “Hey, can you just text me to say you’re okay? I need you to be okay.”
Her room was empty now. Shadows clung to the walls like drapes. This room was always empty, but without Ashley it felt empty. Deputy Golden had finished questioning her within a couple minutes and moved on to her fathers.
Tires screeched across the pavement outside. Logan pried her blinds open in time to catch Sheriff Paris climbing out of his cruiser. He stood in the parking lot, cautiously eyeing the door to Brandon and Alejo’s room with a blank expression. He steeled himself and marched to the door, quietly pushing his way inside.
Logan scrambled out to the parking lot.
“I’m almost done with the questions,” Deputy Golden started. “I—”
“Yeah, well, something came up,” Paris said. “We’ll finish this at the station.”
“Hey, stop.”