Chapter 5: Damian and Ridge, Questioning
Vivian Vosh stood behind the reception desk at the Rankin Motel. She looked as if she had been through two terms of drug rehabilitation and ten years of Alcoholics Anonymous. She chewed a wad of orange-colored gum, snapped it, and looked over a pair of reading cheaters the color of a new moon in September.
Damian placed her at fifty, catty, and hard to get along with. Sometimes they questioned women like Vosh; particularly rough females who didn’t like to cooperate with the local police, state bulls, or FBI agents. No harm, no foul, though. Vosh had rights, and if she didn’t want to talk to him, so be it.
Damian looked over his right shoulder and saw Ridge peering outside, collecting a soothing vision of the night’s falling rain. Something muddle
