No Return

45

“I’ll grab some clothes for tomorrow and be over in a few minutes,” Anna said.

They’d just returned to the motel from dinner.

“Don’t be too long,” Wes said.

“Or what?”

“Or I might be the one who’s asleep.”

Smirking, she shook her head. “Should have taken that nap with me.”

While Anna went for her things, Wes let himself into his room.

The red light on the phone was lit. He made a quick stop in the bathroom, then retrieved the message.

“Wes, it’s Lars. I’ll … uh … I’ll call back.”

Wes stabbed a finger at the number three button, erasing the message. He then turned on the TV and climbed onto the bed. As he pulled out one of the pillows to put behind his back, he realized there was something stuck to the cloth case.

It was a neatly folded piece of newsprint, safety-pinned to the pillow’s cover.

Reluctantly he undid the pin and opened the paper.

Most of the page was the remnants of an article about school board elections. But whoever had left it had conveniently circled a smaller, one-column article in black ink.

BHS STUDENT DIES AT HOME

Ridgecrest emergency services were called to the home of the Johansson family on Rancho Street yesterday afternoon. Inside, they found a young woman in cardiac arrest. According to Fire Department liaison Lisbeth Klausen, EMTs immediately began lifesaving procedures, but their efforts proved unsuccessful

.

A family spokesman indentified the woman as Amanda Johansson, 17-year-old daughter of Dean and Lauraine Johansson, and a senior at Burroughs High School. It is believed Miss Johansson was home alone at the time

.

Wes could feel tears welling in his eyes. Two short paragraphs announcing her death were all that Mandy got.

It was so stark. So impersonal.

He wiped his eyes, then threw back the bedspread to make sure there was nothing else underneath. All he found were sheets.

A knock on the door startled him. He pulled the spread back onto the bed, then went to see who it was.

Anna was there, but she wasn’t alone. Behind her were Detectives Stevens and Andrews.

“What’s … up?” Wes said.

“Sorry to bother you so late on a Sunday evening, Mr. Stewart,” Stevens said.

“Did you find my stuff?”

“I wish that’s why we were here.”

When Stevens didn’t elaborate, Wes said, “Then what is it?”

“We’d like you to come down to the station with us.” Stevens smiled without warmth. “We have something we want to show you.”

“You can’t tell me what it is here?”

“Easier if you come with us.”

Andrews pointed at a sedan in the lot. “Our car’s right over there.”