“Gafino,” Jack said again.
“Gafino? Is that who did this?”
Jack never moved his head to acknowledge him but just continued to repeat the name ever so quietly. Right then the door opened and Boone stuck his head in. “Time’s up, Dalton. Let’s go.”
“Just a minute. He said something.” Dalton leaned in closer. “Was that it, Jack? Is that who did this? If it was, just tell me. Let me know somehow.”
“His finger is moving,” Boone said.
“What?”
Boone gestured with a nod of the head to Jack’s left hand. He saw the index finger go up. Dalton placed his hand on it then asked Jack again. “If it was him, move your finger for yes or don’t move it for no.”
Five, ten, twenty seconds passed. “Was it him, Jack?”
HIs finger moved. Dalton gripped his shoulder. “I’ll look into it. Trust me. I’ll be back. I gotta go now.” He got up and walked over to the door. The security guard muttered something to Boone just as Dalton gave one last glance at Jack. It pained him to see him that way.
As they left the hospital, Boone asked, “Did you get what you need?”
Dalton nodded, deep in thought.
Twenty minutes later, Boone dropped Dalton off outside the Evergreen Motel. “You sure I can’t persuade you to have dinner with my family?”
“Uh…” He glanced over at the motel as he leaned into the car. “Look, if things don’t work out here, I’ll take you up on that offer.” Dalton patted the top of the SUV and closed the door. Boone honked the horn and pulled away. He knew he was going out on a limb and Karen would no doubt ride his ass over this but he had to know what this reporter had dug up. A quick stop in the main lobby and the girl snapping gum behind the desk told him the room number. Dalton straightened out his shirt and ran a hand through his wavy hair before heading down to her room and knocking. He turned and looked out at the gravel lot. There was a motorbike, and a black Ford sedan nearby. From inside he heard a rustle. Feet making their way to the door.
“Can I help you?” a female voice asked from behind the door. She’d obviously looked through the peephole.
“John Dalton. Here to see Kelly.”
A chain slid, and the door opened. She was younger than he imagined, early twenties, attractive, dark wavy hair and petite. She wore tight jeans and a white blouse with flats.
“John Dalton…and there was me thinking you would never return my calls again.” She stepped to one side. “Come on in.”
The room was cramped, stuffy and typical of any roadside motel in a small town. One queen-sized bed, an ancient TV and the decor was circa 1990s. A guy in business attire stood up from a chair near a small table at the back of the room. He flashed his pearly whites as he came over to greet him. “The man of the hour,” he said gripping his hand and pulling him in and patting him on the back. He whispered in his ear. “You might have just saved my bacon.”
“Excuse me?”
Kelly gestured to him. “This is Zach Larsen, a…”
“Boyfriend,” Zach said before she could finish.
“Zach, shut up,” she added while frowning. “He’s not my boyfriend. More of an annoying fly I just can’t seem to get rid of. Which reminds me, you should be heading out now.”
“I think not! Things are just getting interesting,” he replied, slumping down in his chair and reaching for a pack of cigarettes.
“You can’t smoke in here.”
Zach looked at Dalton. “Do you have females in your life who give you this much hassle?”
“Zach.”
He threw a hand up. “All right, princess, I’ll go outside.” He trudged towards the main door mumbling under his breath. As soon as he was out of the room Kelly gestured for Dalton to take a seat at the table.
“Sorry about that.”
Dalton brushed it off. “It’s fine.”
“Any news?” she asked getting straight to the point.
Dalton glanced around the room looking for any electronic devices. He would have been hard-pressed to see them with technology today getting smaller and smaller, but he knew reporters enough to know they would secretly record if it meant getting a soundbite. “Off the record?”
“We’re not even on,” she said taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “That’s not how I operate, Mr. Dalton.”
“No? Then what brings a woman like you all the way from San Francisco to pursue a man like Winchester? As I imagine the city gets enough titillating events to keep the Chronicle busy all year.”
She nodded. “It does but it’s not often you get a story slide across the table like this, and then when you follow it up, find yourself deep in a disappearance. Call it the reporter in me but it was hard to walk away.”
Dalton grinned. “Yeah. I bet.” He looked down into his hands and then back at her. “The guy outside. Colleague?”
“Afraid so. But don’t worry about him. Did you see Winchester?”
He nodded. “I did.”
“I thought you might contact me to invite…”
He raised a hand. “It’s not as easy as that. A lot has happened since we last spoke.”
“So why the visit?”
He swallowed. He didn’t want to admit he needed her help as that could lead to her trying to negotiate a story out of this but the truth was, without getting to the bottom of who Jack was referring to, he was operating on empty.
“You know much about his court case?”
“A little. Why?”
“What can you tell me?”
She smiled. “I’m asking you the same thing.”
“I think you know a little more than I do.”
“Nothing that can’t be found online,” she replied. “I’ve not had exactly much luck digging around in Apalachin but Zach was about to go there.”
“Why?”
She got up and went over to the coffee machine that had finished brewing. She poured herself a drink and offered him one but he
