The Trigger by L.J. Sellers Read Free Book Online Page B

the rotting corpse from a distance. “Dan Michelson? I’m Agent McCullen with the FBI.”
    “Yes, we met in court once.” The coroner was too old to even guess his age, but he refused to retire.
    “The Turnbull case. I remember.” McCullen nodded toward the body. “What have we got?”
    “Female, probably between twenty-five and thirty-five—based on the condition of her teeth—and dead for at least a week. Maybe longer. She also has quite a dent in her skull, so it looks like someone clobbered her.” The coroner moved toward the driver’s side. “I’ll do the autopsy tomorrow and send over my report, but don’t get your hopes up. The forensic evidence is long gone.”
    “Thank you.”
Please don’t let it be Emma
. McCullen braced himself and started for the motel office.
    Inside, the smell of cigarettes and burnt coffee was a welcome relief from the wet cadaver odor clinging to the inside of his nostrils. He showed his credentials to the young man at the counter and followed him into a small back office. A fifty-something man with a toupee looked up from his computer.
    “Agent McCullen, FBI. Are you the manager or owner?”
    “Bob Hamper, owner. I assume you’re here about the body?”
    “Yes.” McCullen took a seat in a plastic chair that looked like it had been made in the sixties. “The victim could have been a guest here. Any idea who she is?” He wondered—even hoped— she was a prostitute who worked out of the motel.
    “Yes and no.” Hamper took a pull from a silver flask that came out of nowhere. “I’ve been thinking about it since I found her, and she might be connected to the rental car that was left in the parking lot two weeks ago.”
    Two weeks ago Emma had been fine. McCullen pulled out his notepad, thinking more clearly now. “What date was that?”
    “I’ve been trying to pinpoint it. I think I noticed the car on Thursday, April 25th, so it was probably there before that.”
    “What happened?”
    “Like I said, the car had been sitting for a couple days, but the license plate didn’t match any guests. So I opened the vehicle and found papers from Shasta Rentals.” Hamper took another pull. “The name Charlotte Archer was on the contract. She’d been a guest here on that Sunday and Monday night and left without turning in her key.”
    McCullen jotted down the name but had a sinking feeling it was as fake as the license plate number she’d given the motel. A woman with something to hide. “Did you report any of this to the police?”
    “I didn’t have a reason to. She paid for the room in advance, and there was no indication anything had happened to her.” A bead of sweat formed on Hamper’s upper lip. “Shasta Rentals was happy to send someone over to retrieve the car. She may have owed them for a couple more days, but that wasn’t my problem.”
    Jackass.
McCullen resisted the urge to correct the man’s thinking. He might need the leverage later. “How did she pay?”
    “With cash.”
    Of course.
“Describe the woman.”
    “Early thirties, short blond hair.” He paused, as if searching for the right word. “Curvaceous.”
    That sounded like Emma.
Just a coincidence
, he told himself. “Did she say where she was from?”
    “She listed Sacramento.”
    That could be phony too, but it was a place to start. “What about the room she stayed in? Did she leave any luggage? Or anything unusual?”
    “The maid didn’t report a thing, but you can ask her yourself. She’s cleaning in that area now.” Hamper glanced at his monitor. “Charlotte Archer stayed in room eight. It’s right next to the pool.”
    An image of a man dragging her body in the dark popped into his brain. “I need copies of anything she filled out or signed, and I want to see the room.”
    Hamper stood. “You’re lucky it’s empty this morning. But we’ve had guests in there since the Archer woman.”
    McCullen knew he probably wouldn’t find anything, but if she had been murdered, he