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type. I try to keep them smiling the whole time.”
    “Hard to do day in, day out.” The tired-looking woman sighed.
    “If you ever need—”
    “Stop right there,” Dana ordered, pointing at Stevie with her cigarette. “Your sister gave me the same lecture. I’m not stupid.”
    Stevie bit her tongue, knowing the woman needed to come to her own decision.
    Shrewd eyes studied Stevie. “When are you going to marry that police chief of yours? I heard you haven’t even given up your apartment yet. I don’t know what you’re waiting for. In a tiny town like this, you’re not going to find many good ones like I did.” She jerked her head at the window of her home and inhaled on her cigarette, giving Stevie a wink, sharing a womanly bonding moment.
    Stevie was speechless as she mentally compared Zane to Tony. She pulled up the hood of her heavy coat. “Merry Christmas, Dana. And I’m very sorry for your loss.”
    She climbed in her vehicle, suddenly needing to feel Zane’s arms around her.

CHAPTER SIX
    His energy restored with a jump-start from Nell’s espresso, Zane returned to the Wayside Motel. He spotted Charlie watching him from the window of the lobby and decided to see if the manager had any gossip to share about his customers.
    “I hear you’re steering business away from me, Zane,” Charlie complained the second Zane stepped in the door.
    “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “That family from out of town. The Phillipses. I heard they were told to go stay at Dixie’s. Everyone knows Dixie doesn’t take customers during the winter months.” He scowled.
    Zane halted. “Seriously, Charlie? You wanted them to stay in the same motel where their daughter was murdered? Don’t you have any feelings?”
    “She wasn’t murdered here. I heard what the examiner said. Just because she was found here, doesn’t mean you need to be scaring away my customers by telling them someone was killed here. She could have been killed anywhere.”
    “For fuck’s sake, Charlie. Their daughter died. Grow a heart and put yourself in their situation.”
    “It’s hurting business.” He glared and Zane noticed his comb-over looked extra thin today.
    “That’s not my problem. How can it be hurting business when you’re the only motel for miles? How about you replace the sinks and bedspreads? Update the rooms a bit. Stop charging everyone for Wi-Fi. That’d help your business.”
    “You don’t know anything about the business of running a motel.”
    Zane closed his eyes, took two deep breaths, and opened them, staring hard at Charlie. “Do you have any news for me? Anything about Vanessa Phillips?”
    “No.”
    “Then I’ll get to work. A business I do know something about.” He strode out of the lobby and barely kept himself from slamming the door. Charlie hadn’t cleared the snow from the motel walkways, and Zane had to step carefully. He hoped someone slipped and sued.
    Room 127 was occupied by Tim Sessions, the trucker with the sexual assault record. According to Kenny’s information, Tim had checked in on December twenty-third and was still staying at the motel. Tim had answered all of Kenny’s questions on Christmas Day, and claimed he hadn’t seen or heard anything unusual until the cops showed up. It was the standard answer Kenny got from everyone. Tim’s room was next door to the unit where Vanessa had been found.
    Zane knocked and the door opened promptly. No waft of alcohol spilled out. Instead Zane was greeted with a little too much Old Spice. Tim Sessions was dressed in jeans and cowboy boots. Zane knew he was twenty-eight. He looked like a young, all-American rodeo champion. Not a sex offender.
    “I figured you guys would be back as soon as you ran me through the system,” Tim said, holding out his hand to Zane.
    “You know why I’m here then,” said Zane. Tim had a strong handshake, his hands heavily callused. A working man’s hands.
    “I know what’s on my record.