Page 67 of Nowhere Good

That last time was the longest she’d ever spent in the cage, and by the end of it, she’d been so desperate for some warmth that when her dad finally unlocked the door, she’d crawled out and hugged him. She begged him to let her come back upstairs, promised him she’d never act out of line again.

“I know you won’t, sweetheart.”

Then she was free again.

Claire wrapped her arms around her ribs, embracing herself as she turned away from the basement door. Was that hell truly waiting for her again if her dad found out she was working against him? If she went missing for three or more days, wouldn’t someone notice? Would Seth?

A sound from outside turned her to stone. Boots clunked over the deck. Horror flooded her veins, but it was too late to react—the front door flew open, and somebody rushed inside.

Marty stopped in his tracks and gawked at her.

TWENTY-ONE

The fair began to thin out around dusk. Seth made his way toward his car up the street, moving through the smoky, crepuscular light. A loud pop resounded through the sky, followed by flashes of red, white, and blue behind him. He glanced back in time for the sizzle as the fireworks rained down like shooting stars.

He couldn’t bring himself to feel any sense of celebration. There’d been no hits on the sketch so far. No useful calls on the tip line either. Someone else must have seen this man—he wasn’t invisible, and he had a vehicle of some kind. Maybe a van. If he did live here, someone must have known him, recognized him.

He thought back to Clementine Dyer’s reaction. The glimmer of recognition. Who would she go out of her way to protect? Marty? The sketch looked nothing like him.

As Seth reached his car, he dug the candle from Claire’s booth out of the deep pockets of his slacks. He held it firmly in his hand, getting lost in the deep red, before he opened his car and placed it on the passenger seat.

He was about to head back to the fair to help with patrol when the police radio built inside his car crackled to life.

“All units, be advised—we’ve got a possible homicide at Carlson Gas Stop, Mile Road 6. Reporting party says it’s a white female, twenties or thirties, long blonde hair.”

Two officers had already arrived—Jacobson and Yess—and were dragging crime scene tape over the scene. An ambulance hung back with two grim-faced paramedics leaning against it. One of the patrol cars blocked Seth’s view, so he got out of his car as another firework popped off in the distance.

The crime scene was bathed in the bright lights of the gas station, unnatural and harsh. He moved closer. Past the patrol car, a pool of fresh blood widened over the concrete.

And in the middle of that blood was a woman’s body, her head angled toward the gas station.

She wore a blue denim dress. Seth hadn’t seen Claire today, so he didn’t know what she was wearing. Her hair—long and dirty blonde—was tucked behind her ear, the way Claire sometimes wore hers. It revealed a small ear with a hoop earring on the lobe. He suddenly couldn’t remember if Claire wore hoop earrings, or if her ears were pierced at all.

He stepped closer until the woman’s face, tucked into the crook of her bleeding neck, became clear. An upturned nose, like Claire’s, but with a stronger bridge. Defined cheekbones, catlike eyes, open and glassy, forever etched with their final moments.

It’s not her.

Both relief and shame made his head light. He hadn’t wanted to see Claire’s dead body—he hadn’t wanted to fail her so spectacularly, but he’d failed this woman. There could be no relief here. Only horror.

But more questions piled up in his mind. This scene was different from the others.

There was no writing on her arm. The pool of blood was massive, trailing like rivers into the grooves of the concrete. A gash tore open her throat—it was hard to tell the thickness, based on how much blood there was, but she had definitely died here. Recently, within minutes.

It was a complete shift in MO, aside from the profile and cause of death.

“Winslow, there you are,” Yess said, and Seth’s eyes snapped to his. Yess looked ill. “Coroner’s on the way. Hopefully within the hour. Paramedics showed up, but… was obvious she was already gone. Asked them to hang back so the scene’s not contaminated.”

“That was the right call,” Seth said. From a cut that deliberate, she’d died within seconds. Just long enough for her to be aware of what was happening before it was too late. “Do you know her?”

“Must be from out of town. I don’t recognize her.”

Feeling queasy, Seth scanned the parking lot of the gas station. A truck was parked on the far side of the lot—the employee’s, most likely. One car was by the pumps, a white sedan with a pair of pink dice hanging from the mirror.

“She came for the fair,” he said. “She was gassing up on her way out of town when he killed her. He’s breaking the pattern.”

“Why?” Yess asked. “Why now?”

Seth thought it over. There was only one thing that changed today. “The sketch. He knows we’re closing in on him, and he’s getting desperate. We need to clear out the event, send people home, warn the public. We have no idea where this guy is or if he’ll do it again tonight.”