Page 100 of Lorenzo

“You said there was no location.”

“There wasn’t. Just part of a name.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m checking how many there are within a reasonable distance of the addresses Rachel gave Elaine.”

She enlarges one of the photographs, then switches to another screen.

I keep my attention on the road.

“How many?”

“Three with similar names. One is in Indiana, one closed several years ago, and one is about twenty minutes from here.”

“That narrows it somewhat.”

“Maybe.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“Because the name in Elaine’s notebook is missing part of it. It could be shorthand, or it could be a completely different place.”

“But you think it is this one.”

“I think it’s worth checking.”

She studies the screen for another moment.

“It’s not too far out of our way.”

I glance toward her. “How far?”

“About fifteen minutes south, then we can cut back toward Chicago.”

“Address.”

She gives it to me.

I change lanes at the next opportunity.

Donna looks over. “You didn’t argue.”

“Do not become accustomed to it.”

Her mouth curves, and she enters the address into the navigation system.

The route takes us away from the wider road and through a town that appears to have been built around a highway exit and then forgotten. Gas stations, a diner, two auto repair shops, and several low commercial buildings line the main stretch. Most of them have faded signs and parking lots larger than the businesses require.

The motel sits beyond an empty restaurant with boarded windows.

It is a two-story structure arranged around a cracked parking lot. The sign near the road has lost several letters, though enough remain to match the name in Elaine’s notebook.

Donna straightens.

“That’s it.”

“You sound certain now.”