Then She's Gone: An unputdownable, gripping and twisty crime thriller packed with suspense (Detective Billie Ann Wilde Book 2) by Willow Rose

Author:Willow Rose [Rose, Willow]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2024-03-18T00:00:00+00:00

THIRTY-SIX

BILLIE ANN

I was driving down A1A, when I called up Big Tom and asked him to run some checks on the local motels, particularly in the area close to where Joanne had been found. I also asked him to look into any recent missing person reports or suspicious activity involving women of all ages. I asked him to search for branding in any other murder cases recently, especially unsolved ones.

“That was a lot. But I’m on it,” he said.

“How’s it going with Scott?”

He chuckled. “As expected. He’s been on the phone all day. Talking to every Tom, Dick, and Harry who has seen anyone Hispanic. Nothing useful so far though. We’re also getting a lot of heat on the eagle tattoo, and I am going through all the people who’ve been identified now.”

“Sounds good. Keep up the good work.”

I hung up the phone just as I turned into the driveway of the Sea Aire Motel. It seemed natural for me to begin here, since this was where the man with the suitcase and eagle tattoo had been seen. The gravel crunched under my tires. It was a quiet little motel on the beach. The Sea Aire Motel was once a sparkling blue and white motel, but time and neglect—not to mention the hurricanes—had taken their toll. The paint was faded and flaking, the roof fissured and cracked. The once ocean blue facade of the Sea Aire Motel was now stained and dingy. The colors almost completely washed away.

I parked my car and stepped out into the warm salty air. It was still windy and the palm trees swayed heavily, but the rain seemed to have stopped. At least for a little bit. Dark clouds on the horizon told me that it wouldn’t be long before the next thunderstorm hit. My phone kept dinging with rip current notifications and warnings to stay out of the ocean as the storm approached. There was always one surfer who thought it would be great to surf the hurricane waves, who ended up dying while doing it.

As I made my way to the reception desk, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. The motel seemed deserted, and I couldn’t spot a single guest or staff member. The front desk was empty till suddenly someone came out from the back. The receptionist, a young blonde woman, greeted me with a smile.

“How can I assist you?”

I showed her my badge.

“I’m looking for any information on a recent guest of yours. We have a surveillance camera photo that you provided of him leaving with the suitcase and two bags.”

I unlocked my phone with a practiced flick of my thumb and found the photo nestled among the hundreds of others stored there. I turned the screen to face her, holding it out like a peace offering. “This was taken last week,” I said, my voice low and urgent. “I was informed that he went by the name of M. Smith, and that he paid cash. But could

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