In The Arms Of The Enemy. Carol Ericson

whistled. “Cyanide.”

      “Along with the foaming at the mouth and his reddish skin color, that’s my guess. But it’s just a guess and we have a lot of tests to run.”

      “Poison.” Cole drummed his fingers against his chin. “The murder weapon of choice for women, but the motel clerk said Diamond checked in as a single.”

      Brookhurst nudged him and chuckled. “Maybe his old lady mixed up a little something special for him when she caught him cheating, or maybe she was cheating and wanted to bypass the divorce. I should start sniffing the drinks my wife mixes for me.”

      Cole’s jaw tightened and he nodded once. Cheating-spouse jokes didn’t hold much humor for him anymore.

      Hearing a commotion outside, Cole strode to the door of the motel room. A deputy had stopped two women outside the yellow tape. One of them, speaking Spanish, kept pointing at the car with the dead body in the trunk.

      Cole joined the knot of people. “What’s going on, Deputy?”

      The officer jerked his thumb between the two women. “This one’s saying the other one saw a woman here this morning.”

      They’d already questioned one of the women, who was a maid at the motel, but hadn’t seen the second woman yet.

      “Espera.” Cole sliced his hand through the air. “Wait. Habla inglés, señora?”

      “Sí, yes, I speak English.”

      “What were you doing at the motel this morning?”

      “Trabajo. I work here as a maid. I have the overnight shift.”

      “What time was this?”

      “After seven o’clock, señor. I was almost done with work.”

      “Where did you see this woman? What did she look like?”

      “By this car. I thought maybe she came out of the room. She walked past the car and she was pulling a suitcase.” She twirled her finger in the air. “One with wheels.”

      “Did you see what she looked like?”

      The maid put her hands about six inches apart. “Flaca. Skinny. Not tall, not short. She was wearing dark pants, maybe jeans, and a dark jacket.”

      The woman was observant. “Hair?”

      “No, señor.” She shook her head.

      His brows shot up. “No hair?”

      “Under a hat.” She put her hands on top of her head. “Like una...gorra.”

      The other maid spoke up. “Like a knit beanie, pulled over her head.”

      Cole’s pulse ratcheted up a notch. Like she was trying to disguise herself. “Did you get a good look at her face?”

      “No, sorry. I notice because there was nobody else outside. I don’t think she saw me. She walked past the car, fast, and then turned the corner up there.” The maid pointed to the front of the motel.

      “Toward the road.” They’d already questioned the motel clerk and he hadn’t seen or heard a thing. Had this mysterious woman poisoned Johnny Diamond, taken some of his cash and hightailed it out to the road to hitch a ride?

      Cole got the contact information for the two women, thanked them and returned to the motel room, where the coroner had already loaded Diamond onto the gurney. The DEA and Cole personally had been trying to nail Diamond for four years. It figured that Diamond’s death would provide even more questions than answers. Nothing had been easy with that guy.

      What had Diamond been doing back in his old stomping grounds instead of plying his trade in Arizona, where he’d been wheeling and dealing for four years? Had that woman lured him this way?

      Cole turned to Deputy Brookhurst. “Did you find any other fingerprints besides Diamond’s in this room?”

      “We barely found any of Diamond’s.”

      Cole narrowed his eyes. “Wiped clean?”

      “Looks like it.”

      “How about his phone? Did your guys search the Dumpsters and bushes for Diamond’s phone? There’s no way a man in Diamond’s business would be without a cell.”

      “We looked. We’ll try to track his number through the different providers and see if we can locate his phone by pinging.” Brookhurst slapped Cole on the back. “Don’t worry, Agent Pierson. We’ll keep you guys in the loop. We called you as soon as we found out you had a flag on Johnny Diamond, didn’t we?”

      “You sure did, and I appreciate it. I’ve been after this SOB for a long time.” Cole snapped his fingers. “Did any of the deputies do a search on the GPS in the stolen car? I noticed it had a built-in one.”

      “Damn, I don’t think we’ve done that yet—a little distracted by what we found in the trunk.”

      “Yeah, poor Hazel McTavish. I wonder how she had the bad luck to run across Diamond.” Cole flipped up the collar of his jacket. Seattle days could be cold enough, but Seattle nights could chill you down to your bones. “I’m going to check the GPS and see if I can find out where Diamond and his mysterious lady friend were headed.”

      He shouldered his way through the deputies and EMTs gathered around Hazel’s trunk, and slid into the front seat of the car. He sniffed the air and got a whiff of some flowery scent—probably belonged to Hazel, but he’d have the King County boys dust for prints in here, too.

      He poked his head out the door and yelled back, “I’m going to start the engine to look at the GPS.”

      The GPS beeped to life as he cranked on the ignition. With a gloved finger, he tapped the screen. He swiped his finger across Recent Destinations and blew out a breath—next stop Timberline, Washington.

      * * *

      HER HEART STUTTERED when the bell above the door of the tourist shop, Timberline Treasures, jingled. She turned from the bin she’d been filling with little stuffed frogs, and released a sigh.

      She smiled at the family with two young kids. “Welcome. Let me know if you need anything.”

      The parents smiled back and started to browse through the key chains and magnets.

      She wiped her sweaty palms on the seat of her jeans. She’d have to stop freaking out every time someone came into the store—or find another job. There was no way anyone could trace her to Timberline from that motel room. She’d wiped down all her prints and had even taken Larry’s phone just in case he’d had any more information about her, or pictures, or any references to Timberline.

      Not Larry, Johnny—Johnny Diamond. When she got to Timberline four days ago, one of her first stops had been the public library to use a computer. It hadn’t taken her long to discover the dead man at the Stardust Motel was Johnny Diamond—drug dealer, thief and all-around bad guy.

      What she’d been doing with him and how he’d wound up dead, she still didn’t have a clue. The online article she read didn’t give a cause of death, but the authorities suspected homicide—no witnesses and no suspects.

      She brushed a wisp of hair from her face. Diamond’s phone didn’t contain any incriminating evidence, and she’d destroyed and dumped it soon after.

      Linda, her new boss, new best friend and owner of the store, came from the storage area in the back and plunked a box on the counter. “Can you help me sort through these items, Caroline?”

      She’d adopted the name from the North Carolina plates of the semi that had picked her up a mile from that motel outside of Seattle. The choice of a last name had been trickier.

      “Of course.” She turned to the family. “Do you need any help?”

      The mom swung a key chain around her finger. “We’ll take one of these—just