Karin Slaughter - Skin Privilege

The sign outside the motel was barely doing its job when he pulled into the space in front of their room. Only seven letters were left to illuminate the entire parking lot. Jeffrey cut the engine as he surveyed their surroundings. A black Dodge Ram was parked a few spaces down from him. The flickering light in the hotel office told him that the manager was watching television. When Jeffrey had checked in, the boy had glanced up from the set with glassy eyes, so bored he could barely manage to blink. Jeffrey imagined there were worse jobs you could have. Working a convenience store where your biggest thrill came from whacking strangers in the head with a cowbell came to mind.

Jeffrey reached over and gently shook Sara awake. She squinted at the hotel, confused for a moment, then sat up, obviously remembering soon enough where they were and what had happened.

He couldn't keep himself from asking, 'You okay?'

She nodded, opening the door, getting out of the car.

Jeffrey followed suit, stretching his back as he stood. His hand went to his holster when he heard a noise behind him.

'Sorry about that.' Jake Valentine came out of the shadows, an open beer bottle in one hand, a small cooler in the other. He startled when he saw Jeffrey. 'Something happen?'

'Just went for a drive,' was the best that Jeffrey could come up with.

Sara walked toward the motel room, offering, Til leave you two alone.'

'Uh, ma'am?' Valentine stopped her. 'I just wanted to say I'm real sorry for what I said last night. Heat of the moment and all. I should've just held my tongue. I didn't mean what I said.'

She nodded. 'Thank you for apologizing.'

If Valentine had been expecting a more grateful response, he was talking to the wrong woman. Jeffrey unlocked the door for her. Sara reached down and wrapped her hand around his wrist, letting it rest there for a few seconds. He felt pathetically grateful for the gesture and gave her the room key because it seemed like a symbolic thing to do. She smiled at him – genuinely smiled -and he felt the band that had been squeezing his chest for the last four hours loosen some more.

'Only be a minute,' Valentine said, as if he was worried Jeffrey would follow Sara into the room.

Jeffrey was tempted, but as the door clicked shut, he asked Valentine, 'What's going on, Jake? You find Lena?'

Valentine chuckled as he put the cooler on the ground and pulled out a fresh beer. Jeffrey saw four empties tucked into what was left of the ice. 'Brought you one of these. Peace offering.'

'Thanks,' Jeffrey said, holding the cold bottle against his head. He'd driven at least ten hours today on about two hours of sleep. His muscles ached, his head throbbed and the last thing he wanted to be doing right now was talking to Jake Valentine.

Still, he walked toward the front of the motel, seeing if the sheriff would follow. The man obviously wanted something, and Jeffrey was going to make it as difficult as possible for the sheriff to ask for his favor. He could consider it payback for their little do-si-do in the linen closet last night.

A long tunnel ran behind the front office of the motel, giving access to either side. Jeffrey wasn't really hungry, but he knew he should try to eat something. He asked Valentine, 'You got any money?'

Valentine pulled a handful of coins out of his pocket. Jeffrey took what he needed and fed it into the machine. He stared at the candy bars and crackers, trying to decide which was less likely to give him indigestion. He settled on SunChips and made the selection.

'I like those, too,' Valentine offered.

Jeffrey held out the bag. 'You want some?' Valentine shook his head and Jeffrey took a seat on one of the wooden benches opposite the vending machines. He ripped the bag open with his teeth and ate a few chips. They were stale.

Valentine just stood there watching him, obviously not knowing what to do. He looked even younger out of his uniform, his spaghetti build punctuated by the high-waisted jeans and overlarge polo shirt. The Georgia Bulldog red ball cap he was wearing wasn't helping much, either. It sat tilted slightly to the side on his narrow head. Even with the noticeable bulge from his ankle holster, he looked like a starter for the varsity basketball team.

If Jake Valentine was the secret drug kingpin of Elawah County, he was sure hiding it well.

'Nice night,' Valentine murmured. 'You and the wife out for a drive?'

Jeffrey opened the bottle with a twist, ignoring the pain shooting through his hand. He hated beer, but his head was hurting so bad he would've drunk poison to make it stop pounding.

Valentine said, 'All jokes aside, still no sign of your detective.'

Jeffrey wasn't surprised. Short of Lena knocking on the front door of the jail and asking to be let in, he doubted very seriously that she would be found. Jeffrey had asked Frank Wallace to keep an eye on her credit cards, but Jeffrey assumed nothing had come up or Frank would've called. He also asked the senior detective to keep an eye out in Heartsdale, but both men had agreed that it was highly unlikely Lena would show back up in Grant County.

Jeffrey stared at the abandoned building on the other side of the motel, a tin-roofed hovel that some enterprising soul had painted to look like a grass shack.

'Hank's place,' Valentine volunteered, nodding toward the building. 'Bartender was selling meth from behind the counter. ATF said a secret informer tipped ' em off. Told me this after the fact, mind you. First I heard about it was Junior, the night manager here, calling to ask me did I know Hank's bar was surrounded by sixty state police cars.'

Jeffrey took another swig from the bottle. He could hear the trickle of a stream, the swaying of trees in the forest that backed onto the hotel and bar. He wanted to be home, floating on his back in the lake, the sound of Sara and her sister's laughter muffled by the cool water. He wanted to be in bed, lying on his back, with Sara's mouth on him.

Valentine cut through his thoughts. 'I'm guessing you already knew about Hank's bar,' he said. 'Just like I'm guessing you're the one who cut the ATF tape on the back door.'

'Good guess,' Jeffrey said, though he had a feeling Lena had done the honors. So, she was looking for something. The cut tape was like a fingerprint. All it told you was that someone had been there. It didn't tell you when or why. Maybe she had gone there for money. Maybe she had been there last night while Jeffrey and Sara tried to sleep.

'Anyway…' Valentine stubbed his toe against the asphalt. 'I was in the neighborhood and figured I'd just…'

Jeffrey gave a heavy sigh as he stood from the bench, too tired to let this play out slow. 'I take it from the empty bottles in your cooler that you've been here a while. You're not in uniform, so you're trying to look like you're off duty, but the fact that a three-year-old could spot that ankle holster tells me you've either been watching too much TV or you've got something to be afraid of. My bet's on the last one.'

Valentine chuckled, but Jeffrey could tell the younger man was shaken. He looked out at the parking lot, took a long pull from his beer.

Jeffrey tossed the empty SunChips bag into the trash. 'Tell me about Al Pfeiffer.'

'Al retired.'

'Why?'

'Wanted to spend more time with his grandbabies.'

'And less time on fire?'

Valentine's eyes narrowed. 'Why're you interested in that old man?'

Jeffrey took a healthy mouthful of beer, trying not to shudder from the bitter taste. Not only did Valentine look like a teenager, he had the tastes of one. Jeffrey would've bet his pension the kid hadn't paid more than three bucks for the six-pack.

'Lookit,' Valentine said. 'I just wanted to let you know we've got the coroner coming in tomorrow.'