Page 187 of The Darkest Chase

Whether I like it or not, I need help.

And I know exactly where to find it.

The lobby lights are still on at The Rookery when I pull up.

Janelle tends to keep it open late for the folks straggling in at all hours of the night. I think it also helps her feel a little less lonely when her husband clearly isn’t home as often as he should be.

The white columns of the massive building are tinted gold by the light spilling through the front windows and glass doors, reflecting off the glossy wood paneling inside.

Gerald Grey’s work, I think.

I can see his touch now.

So very similar to Talia’s.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Old Gerald must have been the one to consult with Janelle when she first bought this place and had it converted into a B&B, long before I ever came to Redhaven.

I wonder if anyone ever thought we’d wind up here.

I step out of my patrol car and stand at the foot of the walkway.

Janelle is a distant, lonely figure behind the reception desk.

When I step up the walk and open the doors, a soft jingle mixes with the low, pleasant piano music playing in the lobby.

Janelle’s shoulders stiffen, but she doesn’t look up. Her hair falls down around her face as she writes something in front of her.

I step up and lean against the counter, folding my arms. “Evening, Janelle.”

She looks up with a guilty smile.

“Oh, Officer Ainsley! Micah. How can I help you this evening?”

I think she knows.

Deep down, some part of her knows why I’m here.

Doesn’t make it any easier to say.

I wonder when I started to care.

Maybe when I found out exactly how it feels when a woman realizes the man she trusted was the worst sort of asshole there is.

“I’m looking for the chief,” I tell her. “He’s not sleeping at the office tonight. I’m guessing he’s not at home. Do you know where he is? Because we both know he’s not here.”

Her eyes close.

Her pen stills against the ledger, its soft scratch falling silent.

“I… I couldn’t tell you,” she whispers.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t know.”

I hate pressing her.

It feels cruel, but fuck, I have to do this.

---