Carved in Blood (Evan Lane Mystery Book 1)

by E. R. FALLON

  “The diner by the library?” I said.

  “Yes. How did you know?” Her smile widened. “Have you visited before? Or are you from around here?” Now, her face glowed with curiosity.

  I thought of something fast to say. “No, I passed by it on my drive into town.”

  “Oh.” After a moment of silence she said, “It’s the best place to get breakfast around here. Everything’s homemade, and the new chef there, well, he goes beyond the usual fare. They have pancakes but with a gourmet twist.”

  “Sounds great. I’ll have to try it in the morning sometime. Do they serve anything that’s vegetarian?”

  “I think so.” I sensed she wanted to ask me more about that but held back. “Tell them Tawny sent you and they’ll give you a discount.” She pointed to her nametag.

  The writing was very small and I had to squint to read it. She had the palest skin even on her hands. I watched her very white throat as she talked. So I’d been wrong about her name. But I’d known her in high school. She was one of the girls in our school who had a thing for Ben. A lot of years had passed since then, but I remembered Tawny had stopped being friendly to me after my mother’s arrest, which wasn’t entirely heartbreaking because most of my other classmates had acted the same way. The large number who had been cruel to me? That had been heartbreaking. I was relieved she wouldn’t know who I was, and I had no intention of telling her.

  “The chef’s my boyfriend,” Tawny spoke as though she was telling me a secret.

  “When I stop in there, I’ll let them know you told me to mention you,” I said to end the conversation.

  The moment lingered as we smiled at each other. I got a text from Sammie about Paige, who hadn’t eaten her dinner. My mood sank. I frowned down at my phone.

  “Is everything all right?” Tawny asked, concern darkening her gaze.

  I replied, to hurry things along and get back on track, “I’m not sure how many days I’ll be here.”

  That seemed to veer her off course. “Oh. Do you have any idea? Are you here to tour the vineyards, or are you visiting someone, or—”

  I hadn’t known Freedom had vineyards. Times had changed. I gave her the safest answer. “I’m here on business. I’m a writer.” I spoke before she could ask me what kind of business.

  “So, you aren’t here for the winemaker convention? Or are you writing about that? That’s why we’re so crowded—it’s normally not like this here. Even being one of the very few hotels in the area, we’re lucky if we get enough business at peak season to pay some of our yearly costs.”

  I ignored her question about whether I was covering the wine convention and smiled. “About how long I’ll be staying, could we work something out, perhaps I could let you know the day before I plan to leave?”

  She bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry but we don’t really do that. I’d ask my manager but he already left for the day.” She peered at the clock behind her. “My shift’s done in a few minutes. Then the night desk guy comes on. He’s not supposed to check people in, unless he really has to. But I guess what you asked would be okay. I’ll leave a note for the manager for when he comes here in the morning.”

  “Great. Thanks, Tawny.”

  She grinned at my using her name. “You’re in room 11, on the second floor,” she said. “It’s right after you get off the elevator.” She handed me the key to my room. “We don’t have electronic key cards, sorry. You’re lucky, you just made check-in time. Check out is at eleven, that’s eleven in the morning, but we don’t know how many days you’ll be staying . . .” She beamed. “Do you need someone to help you with your luggage? Everyone’s gone home for the night but I could help you.”

  “That’s all right, I only have one bag.”

  “Okay, then. Enjoy your stay.”

  I pocketed my key and went to the parking lot to retrieve my suitcase from the car. I paused to text Sammie.

  A few minutes later, I saw Tawny leaving work for the evening. I’d parked next to her. I waved to her and told her to have a safe drive home.

  “If you find you need anything, Kurt, the night desk guy, will be right downstairs,” Tawny said. “Normally, I don’t leave before he gets here but he let me know he’s running a little late. I feel safe getting into my car with you here in the parking lot. It’s so dark, you never know who’s going to be waiting out here. My boyfriend likes me to text him as soon as I lock my car door. We have plans for tonight—my boyfriend and I—so I need to get home. Romantic plans.” She blushed. “He was away supporting his father during a medical crisis and he returned this afternoon. I haven’t seen him yet. I wanted to go with him to see his family but there was no one to fill in for me at work.”

  “Have fun,” I said. Then I asked, “The town is dangerous at night?” Had something changed in the past twenty years?

  “No, but you never know, right? Maybe my boyfriend and I have seen too many scary movies.” She laughed. “Between you and me, the police caught a serial killer here, but that was years ago. I was friends with her daughter—the serial killer, that is, was a woman. Management asks us not to tell guests that part of the town’s history but you seem trustworthy enough. Please don’t tell anyone I said anything to you. Lots of people who visit here ask the locals about it.”

  “What happened to her daughter after?” I’d asked Tawny, to see if she cared what had happened to me.

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure. I hope she’s okay.”

  I was at a loss for words because that wasn’t what I’d expected.

  Before I departed Seven Sisters, I’d looked at the Freedom Village town website and found that Detective Mack still worked on the town police force. Right then would have been an ideal time to bring up Mack to a longstanding resident like Tawny, and ask if he still lived in the same house. Detective Mack had been a fixture in the town. I’d checked online and he wasn’t listed in a phonebook. I assumed that was because of his work. “You have my word I won’t tell,” I said quietly, and closed the car trunk.

  “You’re a nice guy, good-looking. Do you have a wife back at home? I would think so, a catch like you. I love the name of your home city.” She spoke like she was sighing, “Seven Sisters.”

  She had taken down my home address when I registered at the front desk. “I have a girlfriend,” I said after a moment.

  “She’s a lucky woman.” Tawny stood with her car door open and I wondered what kept her from going inside. “You look a little familiar. I thought so when you first came into the lobby but didn’t want to be rude and ask you right when you came in. Have we met before?” She looked at me closely.

  “I don’t believe we have. In fact, this is my first time in the town.” The lie burned in my mouth when I spoke it. She had warm eyes and I wanted to trust her, but I knew I couldn’t. “So I don’t see how we could have met before.” She leaned against her car door, and I moved to hold it open for her so she’d be on her way.

  “I could’ve sworn.” Tawny kept staring at me as though she didn’t believe my answer.

  “You must be mistaken because I know I’ve never met you.” I’d raised my voice without realizing it, and regretted it afterward. Tawny might have been inquisitive but she’d done nothing to deserve my temper.

  “Okay, then. I’m sorry. I must be wrong,” she said softly.

  A moment passed before she got into her car, and I considered telling her I’d known her in high school.

  “Tawny,” I said, my tone gentler.

  She waited for me to continue.

  “Have a good night,” I said.

  She shut her door and through the car window I saw her texting her boyfriend.

  I carried my suitcase into the quiet lobby, and no one had taken Tawny’s place at the desk. It seemed the other guests had turned in for the night or were still out. I took the elevator up to the second floor and padded down the carpeted hall to my room.

  I hadn’t seen any of the other rooms in the lodge, but going on its size alone,
room 11 had to have been the tiniest there. The room had a claustrophobic ambiance; a small bed pushed against the wall to accommodate a large television set, and a writing desk and chair in front of a window overlooking the parking lot. I couldn’t see the main street, or the rest of the town for that matter, from the room, but it would do for my purposes.

  There I was, back to where my old life had ended and my new one began. I texted Sammie to let her know I’d made it up to my room and to check on Paige’s status. Sammie wrote, telling me to get some rest and that, no, the dog hadn’t eaten. I gave her the name of the hotel again and asked if there were any reporters outside our building.

  A few. But I chased them away.

  I laughed only a little because I knew Sammie was serious.

  *

  In the morning I woke up late and peered down at the parking lot from my room window. The number of cars had thinned out as people had left the hotel for their day at the wine conference or wherever.

  There were packs of instant coffee in the room but no means to boil water. I couldn’t get the tap water hot enough, so rather than drink the watery muck I’d created, after I’d showered and dressed, I started out to the diner.

  As one of the few guests who hadn’t already left for the day, I stood out in the lobby. I waved to the older man at the front desk, someone less pleasant to look at than the petite, green-eyed Tawny.

  “Are you the gentleman in room 11?” he asked before I could walk outside.

  “I am. How’d you know?” I forced a smile.

  “I’m the lodge’s manager. Tawny left me a note about your stay, with a description of your looks. She was um . . . quite detailed about how handsome you are.” He cleared his throat.

  Heat imbued my face. “Yes, she mentioned she would leave a note for you. She was very helpful.”

  “I’m delighted to hear that. She is one of our best employees.”

  “That makes sense, then.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “That she gave me good service is what I meant.” After I spoke, that sounded a bit lewd and so I said quickly, “Nice to see you. I best be on my way—”

  “Very good, sir.” His smile weakened. “When you have an idea of how long you’ll be staying, we’re here to help.” The manager handed me his business card and I politely put it in my pocket. “We want you to feel at home so there’s no rush, but we’ll need to know at some point.” He emphasized the second half of the sentence, so I knew he was serious.

  Their general willingness to accommodate me caught me by surprise. I hadn’t experienced small town hospitality in a while. But as a man, I’d never liked how people tended to treat me better than Sammie, a woman.

  “Off to spend the day in the town?” he asked. “Tawny mentioned you were here on business, that you’re a writer?”

  “I’ll probably get some breakfast. I had a late start to the day.” I laughed it off. “I’m a newspaper writer.”

  “Which one? I’m an avid reader. Perhaps I’ve read something you’ve written. What brings you to Freedom Village, a story? Are you covering the winemakers’ convention? If so, you’re a little late this morning, if you don’t mind my saying. They’ve already started for the day.” He looked at his wristwatch, and his questions seemed genuine.

  I weighed my answers. I could tell him I wrote freelance for a few places, or I could name a specific newspaper and risk him looking into me. I could say I planned to visit the local women’s prison for research for a story or for a book I was writing.

  Instead I said, “I’m writing a story on the tourism industry,” and I didn’t name an employer. The idea sounded ludicrous to my ears because Freedom wasn’t exactly a flourishing destination, but it worked.

  The guy’s mouth practically hung open. “Will you be writing about the lodge?” he asked.

  “I just might be. Actually, I wanted to get some work done while I was here, but there isn’t much space in my room.” It wouldn’t hurt to use his concern to my advantage.

  He straightened his necktie, suddenly seeming to care what I thought of his appearance, and the lodge’s, for that matter. “Let me see what can be done about that. I’m sure I can get you a better room, sir.” He spoke fast, and grinned widely, revealing slightly stained teeth.

  “I thought there were none available?” I knew what he was getting at but for the sake of politeness wanted to seem flummoxed.

  “It’s no problem, we’ll get you into a better room. Would you like us to move your luggage for you while you’re out? I’ll give you your new room number and your key upon your return.”

  “How . . .” Did I want them in my room?

  He stepped out and around the counter, toward me. “It’s no trouble at all, sir,” he said. “Would you like us to move your things for you? What would be most convenient for you?”

  I didn’t have anything in my room that could reveal my relation to Alice Lane. “That would be terrific, thanks.”

  “Wonderful, sir. And if you find you need anything, anything, during your stay here with us, however long it is—and please don’t feel rushed to give us your check-out date—do not hesitate to contact me. There’s a phone number and an email contact on the back of the card I gave you.” He pointed them out.

  In turn, I sensed he’d expect the lodge to get a decent mention in my ‘story.’ If they followed up after I left, I would have to tell them the newspaper decided not to run the article after all. I expected they’d be disappointed or pissed off, both probably.

  “Do you need a suggestion for where to get breakfast?” he asked.

  “Tawny recommended the diner.”

  “A great choice.” He smiled. “Do you have directions?”

  “Yes, she gave them to me last night,” I lied.

  “Wonderful. Enjoy your meal. We’ll have your room all sorted out for your return.”

  I texted Sammie as I walked to the diner. We’d discussed my plans before I left Seven Sisters, but she didn’t know that I intended to visit my mother in prison nearby under the guise of a journalist covering a story. The less Sammie knew, the better, for her sake. I didn’t want her to come under scrutiny by the law if my plan backfired.

  I didn’t plan to reconnect with any old friends while in town. I intended to seek out Detective Mack and get a prison visit pass through him. Mack was the one person in law enforcement I felt would help me if he could. Mack had said I should feel free to come to him if I ever needed anything and that he wanted to help me. Although we’d lost touch over the years and he hadn’t known about my transition, I expected his offer would still stand. Getting his support would be the quickest way to see Alice and get some answers, and then return to Seven Sisters to sort out the messes that I’d left at work and at home. I also felt that once I revealed to Mack that I’d begun my transition, he wouldn’t spread it all over the town.

  Someone from city hall in Seven Sisters had called me and left a message for a hearing I knew I wouldn’t attend. Missing my hearing with my superiors had crossed my mind more than a few times as, at the very least, having the potential to taint my reputation. Or get me fired. But I needed to be here in Freedom Village, finding answers.

  Some of the town’s shopfronts had been remodeled or at least repainted in my long absence. While Freedom might never succeed as a true tourist destination, the village had overhauled itself over the years to make it more appealing. Yet, if it wasn’t for the influx of wineries in the surrounding area, something I wasn’t aware of until Tawny mentioned them, I suspected the town would have gone to shambles during the harsh economic times of years past.

  The village was in a valley, and in the distance I could see fields of grapevines and the white rooftops of processing buildings. The winemakers were probably getting what they could out of the end of the season. Behind the thriving vineyards loomed the old prison: three multi-story, institutional, gray structures—one of which housed my mother—separated by recreational, small, cement courtyards,
also bleak and gray. A very high barbed-wire fence outlined the entire property. The village couldn’t escape how close it was to the crumbling prison. My mother had liked to garden. How could she have found any solace in the weed-filled prison yard?

  But I had other things on my mind that day, like whether Ben would have accepted me as Evan. He’d been okay with me liking women, but would he have been all right with me being Evan and liking women?

  Ben had been an only child, like me. Slim, with blond hair and golden skin, Ben was handsome, and into his garage rock band more than school sports. Girls had loved him despite him being a little shorter than most young men his age, and he couldn’t get enough of them. Ben had been aware I loved girls, too, and accepted that part of me. He was the only person close to me who knew. Kids in our high school would whisper in the halls that we were more than best friends—since practically birth—and Ben had let them believe we were more, to protect me. He knew not everyone would be as accepting of me as him. Some of the girlfriends he had in high school viewed me as a threat to their relationships with him, and we’d laugh about the misunderstanding, but I never lost Ben’s friendship. Until Alice.

  A psychological profile on my mother? Why did she murder Ben and those boys? I’d never looked into most of the articles, books, or research papers that had been written about her. But I did ask Detective Mack directly why she’d done those crimes. Compulsion, he’d said. And psychosis. But there were few clues in her life or her childhood that would have predicted that. As far as I saw, she’d led a relatively normal existence with me, and her childhood had been ordinary with the rare dash of minor setbacks that everyone experiences at some point in their life. In other words, she hadn’t been abused or neglected in any sense of the word.

  At the time, Mack’s diagnosis of my mother, given to him by her prison therapist, had sounded like bullshit to me. My mother was a compulsive killer, Mack had explained. Once she’d murdered Ben she felt compelled to kill another young man, and so on. She hadn’t harbored an intense dislike toward men, and that fell along the lines of what I recalled growing up. She wasn’t a hateful person; she was an ill person.