Page 6 of Half the Summer's Night
Someone has to find their killer.
2
ROWAN
Rap rap rap.
I look up from my computer and frown at my closed office door just in time for it to swing open. Julia, my most reliable front desk clerk, sticks her head in. “Hey, boss,” she says. “There’s a lady here to see you.”
I blink at Julia. She has a somber look on her face, which makes me think this is about yesterday’s death. Mr. Marcus Nielson, from Stillwater, Oklahoma. Room 409. Surprisingly strong for a man his age, even if I did have the element of surprise.
“Who?” I say, keeping my breath calm. “Is it the police again?”
Julia hesitates. “I don’t think so,” she finally says. “She just asked if she could talk with you about—” She swallows, her throat bobbing. “You know.”
So I guessed right, it seems. I knew this would be a challenging one, having a death so close to my hotel. But I have a message planned, something I very much want to say, and unfortunately, the Palm Breeze Hotel was the only place I could say it.
A risk I was willing to take. Especially for Abilene Snow.
“Is she a reporter?” I ask.
“Maybe?” Julia shrugs. “Do you want me to ask?”
I consider it briefly. No, better to just talk to her, whoever she is, and get this over with. The sooner everyone—from the Rosado police to the insurance company to Mr. Nielson’s steely-faced daughter, his only next of kin—understands that this was just a terrible, terrible accident, the sooner we can move on, and I can start planning my next kill.
“Rowan?” Julian prompts.
I blink, forcing myself to focus. “No, just send her in. I guess you didn’t get her name?”
Julia shakes her head, and I wave her away and slump back in my chair, staring at my darkened computer screen and the scatter of papers across my desk. Uncle Nash left me one thing in his will: the Palm Breeze Hotel, his most profitable property, which is how I became a hotelier at the age of eighteen. All his other riches—the mansion on Aransas Street, the other hotels and restaurants along the beachfront, the millions in his bank account—were distributed among the various business partners and girlfriends he had accumulated before I threw him through that window ten years ago. I didn’t mind, though. I hadn’t killed him to get his money.
Another knock at the door, even though Julia had left it hanging open. I glance up, rearranging my expression to look like the hapless hotelier everyone needs to think I am.
Except I find Abilene Snow standing in the doorway.
My whole body goes rigid, and for a moment, all I can hear is the frantic pounding of my heart in my ears.She knows it’s me, I think, and the idea terrifies me more than I expect. After all, isn’t that why I started all this up two years ago? Because it was the only way I could conjure up the strength to talk to her? To get her attention?
Well, I have her attention now. Her blue eyes are fixed on me from behind her glasses, and I think I may have forgotten how to breathe.
“You’re Rowan Hanover?” she says, a hint of surprise in her voice.
I swallow because my mouth is too dry to talk. To buy myself some time, I stand up to greet her. But she keeps staring at me. I have to say something.
“Y-yes,” I finally stammer out.Get a grip, I tell myself, in that harsh, cold voice that sounds like Uncle Nash.Don’t act suspicious.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” she says. “My name’s Abi Snow?—”
Abi. She goes by Abi. How did I not know that?
“—And I work as the coroner for Rosado County.”
My heart is jackhammering wildly, but I somehow manage to gesture for her to come into my office. When she does, she sweeps her gaze around, her eyes lingering on the framed movie posters I have on the walls.
“How—” My voice comes out shaky and high-pitched. I force myself to focus. “How can I help you, Ms. Snow?”
“Oh, call me Abi.” She turns toward me, her face lit up with a pretty smile. “I like those posters, by the way.” She nods at the ItalianBlood Raiser 3poster I bought a few years ago, a lurid painting of the movie’s female killer holding a long, sharp knife. She looks a little like Abilene, with her long dark hair and high cheekbones, which is why it’s my favorite of the series.
It takes me a second longer to register what the actual Abilene just said to me.
