Wynn spun around and looked toward the entrance of the motel. A black Rolls Royce Phantom was parked between her and the front doors.
“I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I don’t remember seeing it when we pulled in. And I think one of us would have noticed an automobile like that in a place like this,” she said.
“Smith, I told you the anonymous tip to the sheriff stated they saw the girl get into an argument with someone in a Rolls.”
“You think that’s the Boulevard Killer’s car?” Wynn asked.
“Stay here,” Smith said, handing her the Polaroid.
He approached the car, scanning the area for signs of anyone watching. He touched the driver-side door handle and pulled. The door released from the frame and swung open. He bent down and leaned inside the car, looking at the front floorboar
