Page 126 of Forever Dark
Connor stared through the windshield at Room 12.
Fire by itself meant very little.Plenty of boys did stupid things with flames before they were old enough to understand what fire actually was.One sealed record at sixteen could mean anger, recklessness, boredom, revenge, any number of things.
Still.
The buried ones always mattered.
“You want me to keep digging?”Dana asked.
“Yeah.See if there’s another name attached to him.Family, guardian, anybody.”
“Got it.”
He tried to click the radio microphone back into its holder on the dashboard, but it wouldn’t fit properly, like it had been bent out of shape.“God dammit, Arnold.Stop messing around with things.”He just left it hanging by the wire.
Connor looked once more at the dark motel window.His revolver sat where it always sat, holstered and steady.He checked the cylinder out of habit, though habit was not the whole truth.Six rounds.Clean.Ready.He snapped it back in place, slid the weapon into the leather at his belt, and left the retaining strap unbuttoned.
The air smelled faintly of hot asphalt and cut grass from the field behind the motel.Summer was well on its way.Somewhere nearby a television laughed through a thin wall.Connor climbed the concrete steps outside Room 12 and knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again, louder.
Movement sounded inside at once.A scrape of chair legs.A hesitant step.Then the latch clicked and the door opened three inches before the chain stopped it.
A man Connor assumed was Nolan Pruitt peered through the gap.
Up close, he looked even less like a killer than he would have from halfway back in a revival tent.Narrow face.Sandy hair that needed cutting.Eyes that seemed to avoid staying on any one thing for long.A T-shirt hung loose over a thin frame.There was nothing impressive about him physically.No preacher’s presence.No security man’s heft.He looked like the sort of man people forgot ten minutes after meeting him.
“Nolan Pruitt?”
“Yes, Sheriff,” Pruitt said softly.“Is this about Preacher Croft?I’ve been told you’re questioning people.”
Connor showed his badge anyway.“Mind if we talk?It’ll only take a moment.”
Pruitt glanced down the lot before answering, as if checking who might see.“What do you want to ask me?”
“Open the door and we can talk.It’s better if this is done in private.”
A moment passed.
Then the chain slid back.
Connor stepped into a room that smelled musty.One bed had been slept in.The other had a black suit coat folded across it with care that did not match the rest of the room.A keyboard sat on a collapsible stand by the window with earbuds coiled beside it.On the nightstand lay a Gideon Bible, a bottle of ibuprofen, and a paper cup full of pens.
Pruitt shut the door and hovered near it.
Connor stayed standing.“You alone, Nolan?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good.”
Pruitt gave a small uncertain nod.
Connor took in the room while he spoke.No women’s things.No obvious drugs.No open booze.The bathroom door stood ajar.Shower dry.Trash can half full of motel wrappers and a takeout container from some Chinese place in town.
“Have you traveled with Elias Croft a long time?”Connor asked.
