Page 55 of Not This Night

"Charlie Withersnow. Is he here?" Rachel's voice cut the tension, but the giant didn't budge, standing still and silent as the grave.

Rachel frowned, her patience waning. "We need to speak with Charlie Withersnow." Her tone sharpened slightly, but the giant remained unresponsive, brooding in his silence. He glanced at Ethan then back at Rachel, his gaze like ice.

Then footsteps echoed from inside the house, followed by a new presence squeezing past the silent sentinel blocking the door. A slender man, his hair a halo of sun-bleached blonde and his eyes as blue as a cloudless Texas sky appeared. He was diminutive next to the giant but carried a sense of authority that softened the tension in the air.

"Can I help you, officers?" He asked, brushing invisible dust off his immaculate silk shirt. His fingers wore an assortment of shimmering rings, and his wrists clinked with gold bracelets as he moved. His smile was luminous, almost charming, if not for the predatory glint in his eyes

"Sir, we need to talk to Charlie," Ethan tried, his words more diplomatic but no less insistent.

"Good morning! I'm Gabriel." This new man’s handshake was eager, his head tilt curious. "Sorry about Big Joe here; he's not much for talking."

"Charlie Withersnow," Rachel interjected before pleasantries could waste more time. "We're looking for him."

Gabriel's smile faltered, then recovered. "Ah, Charlie. I'm afraid he's been gone a while now. Three weeks, to be precise. Disappeared one night without a word. We filed a report and everything."

"Any idea where he went?" Ethan asked.

"None at all," Gabriel answered, but Rachel caught the brief flicker of something in his eyes before he turned, gesturing for them to follow inside.

Rachel narrowed her eyes. "You have no idea where Charlie might be?"

"None whatsoever," Gabriel replied, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. His gaze darted between them, too quick to read.

"Mind if we take a look at his room?" she asked, her tone even but firm.

"Of course!" Gabriel clapped his hands together as if delighted by the request. "Right this way." His voice was light, almost sing-song, as he spun on his heel and led them through the narrow hallway.

Rachel followed, a skeptical glance thrown over her shoulder at Big Joe who trailed silently behind. His presence felt like an unspoken warning.

The staircase creaked under their weight. Gabriel's chatter filled the air, questions about their journey, the weather, anything to fill the silence. Rachel answered in monosyllables, her focus elsewhere.

They reached the top floor, and the hallway stretched out, doors lining either side in a typical hotel lineup. Gabriel stopped at one, pushing it open with a flourish. "Charlie's room."

Inside, the air was stale. Dust motes floated lazily in the slanting sunlight. Rachel stepped in, Ethan close behind. She scanned the room, noting its sparse furnishings—a bed, a dresser, a small desk—all coated in a fine layer of neglect.

"Take your time," Gabriel said from the doorway, his arms folded. "I'll just be downstairs if you need me."

"Thanks," Rachel muttered, already moving toward the closet. Empty hangers clinked together. No clothes, no shoes. She turned to the dresser next, rifling through drawers holding nothing but old receipts and crumpled papers.

Ethan knelt, inspecting the desk. Routine thoroughness paired with practiced movements. Rachel moved to the bed, crouching to peer beneath it. Then, something caught her eye—a slight unevenness in the floorboards near the foot of the bed.

She glanced back at the door. Big Joe's shadow loomed, his watchful gaze unyielding. She met it with a defiant lift of her chin before turning her attention back to the floor.

Using the edge of her badge, she pried at the board. It gave way with a soft creak, revealing a hollow space beneath. Inside, two glass bongs lay alongside a wad of bills, bound by a rubber band.

"Found something," she called to Ethan without looking up, her fingers carefully extracting the cash.

"Drugs?" Ethan's voice carried a note of disappointment, not surprise.

"Drugs and money," she affirmed, feeling the crisp bills between her fingers. "Why would Charlie leave this behind?"

"Good question," Ethan said, standing to join her. "Maybe he bolted. The murders..." Ethan trailed off, his eyes scanning the room.

"Could be," she mused, but her gut twisted with doubt. A wallet on the dresser, photos still tucked inside—Charlie hadn't planned to vanish.

"Keep looking," she instructed, her tone clipped. "There's more here."

Charlie had left in a hurry… or he’d left intending to come back. Maybe even knowing he would.

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