As quickly and as casually as possible, so as not to draw attention to herself, Candy turned around and slipped back around the corner of the building.
Officer Jody? What the heck is he doing here?
At first she felt a deep flash of paranoia, thinking he’d come for her, but a few moments later she worked out the most likely reason for his sudden appearance.
They’d figured it out. The police had traced the hotel room key to the Shangri-La, just as she’d done. Chief Durr must have sent Officer McCroy to investigate.
More than likely he had the key with him. He’d be able to show it to the person behind the check-in counter. Would they recognize it? Would they point him back to room twenty-three?
And here she was, standing right next to what very well could be Victor Templeton’s car, and in front of a room he’d likely stayed in.
She was trapped.
She’d be in a heap of trouble if Officer McCroy discovered her here, especially after the repeated warnings she’d received from Chief Durr—and her own promise to stay out of the investigation.
“Candy, what have you done?” she chided herself. She felt a moment of panic but forced herself to stay calm. “Just think. You can get out of this if you stay cool and figure it out.”
After waiting for her rapidly beating heart to slow down, she edged up to the corner of the building and chanced a look around it.
Officer McCroy was just walking into the office. His back was to her as he approached an older woman behind the counter and began to talk to her, gesturing back toward the motel rooms.
His attention was focused in a different direction. If she was going to do something, now was the time, before he headed in her direction and completely cut off any avenue of escape.
Before she had time to think about what she was doing, she made her move.
She stayed close to the side of the building, turning right and right again along the four rooms that made up the short end of the building’s L shape, before angling left toward her teal-colored, easily identifiable Jeep. It was parked right in front of her, outside room number ten, near the center of the building. Fortunately, a beige-colored family van was parked a few spaces away on the other side, closer to the front of the motel. There was a good chance it had shielded the Jeep from Officer McCroy’s view as he’d stepped out of his vehicle and made his way to the office.
Whether she could make it out of the lot without getting noticed, well, that was a different matter.
She fished the keys out of her pocket and climbed inside, glancing anxiously toward the office as she started the engine. It sputtered to life.
She put the transmission into reverse but kept her foot on the brake pedal. She knew she didn’t have much time. In a matter of minutes, or seconds, Officer McCroy would come walking out of the office and head straight up the slope toward her. There’d be no way to hide from him then, and she’d have some explaining to do. She hadn’t broken any laws—at least, she didn’t think so—but she’d have the book thrown at her nonetheless.
It wasn’t a pleasant thought. Not in the least. So it was best to get out of Dodge while the getting was good.
Still, she hesitated, waiting for the right moment. And as luck would have it, the right moment showed up sooner than she’d hoped.
A large Ford SUV came down the road, slowed, and turned into the motel’s parking lot, where it crept along toward the office as the occupants of the vehicle peered about. It was a husband and wife, Candy could see, and they were trying to determine whether this was a good place to stop.
Candy used their indecision to her advantage. Pulling on her seat belt and checking over her shoulder, she backed up, shifted gears, and drove toward the front of the motel, staying to the left side of the parking lot and the SUV. This put it between her and the office, blocking the view of anyone who might look out and see her as she drove past.
She timed it as well as she could, passing by the office on the far side of the SUV. It might be enough, she hoped, to make a clean getaway.
As she reached the street, she cast a quick glance over her right shoulder. Officer McCroy was still talking to the woman behind the counter, who was gesturing toward the rear of the building. He took a few steps to his side and peered out the office window, back toward room twenty-three and the spot where Candy had been sitting just a few moments earlier.
At the bottom of the parking lot she braked, carefully double-checked in both directions, turned the steering wheel to the right, and accelerated down the road toward Cape Willington, apparently unseen.
She was a good mile or two away when she finally let out her breath.
“Candy Holliday,” she said with a shake of her head, “you’ve got to stop doing that to yourself.”