“I’m playing house with Ellie,” Maya said.
“Great idea. You guys stay in there, okay?”
He emerged from the office with a pair of lethal-looking bolt cutters, and stopped at the desk again to pick up what Letty knew was the master key to every unit in the motel.
“What now?”
“Just checking to see the name of the dude I’m fixing to arrest,” Joe said. He flipped through the pages of the reservations book, ran a finger down a column of handwritten names, and rolled his eyes. “Mr. Benjamin Dover,” he muttered. “Real cute. Dammit, Ava. I bet they paid with cash, so she didn’t even ask for ID.”
“Should I be worried?” Letty asked.
“No,” Joe said. “Mr. Dover is the one who should be worried. That Impala was stolen a week ago from a truck stop in Ocala. I just called for a tow truck and a backup unit. Looks like Mr. and Mrs. Dover will be checking out of the Murmuring Surf and into the Graybar Hotel.”
14
JOE USED HIS FLASHLIGHT TOknock on the door of unit 2 again. He waited a moment and announced himself again.
“Sir? This is the Treasure Island police. This is your second warning. I need you to vacate this room immediately or face arrest for trespassing.”
Letty stood just outside the office, irresistibly drawn toward the unfolding drama.
The door opened a crack with the chain lock engaged. “Fuck off,” the man yelled. “I paid for this room.”
Joe shoved his booted foot against the door, picked up the bolt cutters, snapped the chain, then tossed the tool aside and pushed the door all the way open.
“Oh God,” Letty breathed. She glanced back into the office, toward the door to the supply room, reassured that Maya was still safely ensconced in her cardboard playhouse.
Joe disappeared into the room, leaving the door ajar. She heard sounds of a struggle, shouted curses, the splintering of wood, then a woman’s shrill scream. “Leave him alone!”
Letty clutched the phone in her hand. Should she call 911? Where were the backup unit and the tow truck he’d called for?
A moment later, the door opened, and Joe pushed the occupant of unit 2 out into the blazing midday sunlight. He was tall, with greasy dark hair that fell to pale, bony shoulders, barefoot, and naked except for a pair of tight-fitting red satin briefs. The man struggled, butineffectively, because the cop had his hands clamped tightly behind his back.
Joe shoved the squirming suspect facedown onto the hood of the Impala. He drew his handcuffs from his belt and was in the process of fastening them when the woman appeared in the doorway of unit 2.
She was pudgy, with a blond bird’s nest of hair and angry close-set eyes, and was dressed only in a grungy oversize white T-shirt that fell far short of covering fleshy pink butt cheeks.
Letty watched in horror as the woman darted from the room, wielding a baseball bat, advancing on the two men struggling against the car.
The woman planted her feet apart and swung the bat up, poised inches above the back of the cop’s skull.
“Joe!” Letty screamed. “Watch out!”
He turned, startled. The bat came smashing down, missing his head by millimeters, landing with a vicious thud onto the hood of the Impala.
The woman, enraged, raised the bat to strike again, but this time, Joe grabbed her arms and knocked the bat to the ground. “Motherfucker!” she screeched, kicking and clawing at him. Letty hesitated, then ran toward the scuffle, launching herself onto the woman’s back. The woman tried to shake her off, slapped back at her, landing a dizzying blow to her assailant’s ear, but Letty hung on for dear life, her fear dissipating as the adrenaline rush took over. She yanked out a handful of hair and the woman yowled in pain, striking out, grabbing at Letty’s face and arms, raking her flesh with razor-sharp nails.
In response, Letty opened her mouth and sank her teeth into the woman’s fleshy arm, clamping down with her jaws. Her victim screeched and flailed with her left hand at Letty’s legs, which she’d wound around the woman’s thick waist.
Suddenly, without warning, the woman went limp and slumped forward. Letty slid to the ground, gasping for air.
Joe DeCurtis wrapped a plastic zip tie onto the woman’s wrists, fastened it tightly, then knelt on the crushed-shell pavement beside Letty.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I… I’m not sure,” she said. The side of her face throbbed where the woman had landed a blow, and she felt warm blood trickling from her arms and legs. He helped her to her feet. Her legs were shaking so badly she had to lean into his arm for support.
The blonde was on the ground, too, still moaning and writhing. “What happened?” Letty asked.
