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“I heard that you called her the night she died. That you were pissed she wouldn’t sell her body for your bookie in order to pay off your debt … That true?”
Tony scowled at me, his finger playing with a frayed hole in his worn-out jeans.
“I didn’t want my sister bein’ no whore for nobody,” Tony argued. “I may have been pissed that she didn’t take care of things like she promised, but I never would have let her do that for me. I swear it.”
“I heard you were yelling at her. That you hung up on her, you were so mad.”
Tony tweaked his nose and said, “I was on a bad trip that night … I loved my sister. She was the one person who always stood by me, no matter what.”
“So you two didn’t end up meeting up that night? After she left the bar?”
“What?” Tony asked, his face turned toward me, but his eyes still far away. “No … I passed out. That was the last time I talked to my sister, and I yelled at her.”
He seemed sincerely upset, and I was about to apologize, maybe offer condolences, when Bran tapped my shoulder.
I looked back at him to see him lift his chin toward the second floor of the motel. I didn’t see anything at first, just a row of doors on the landing that led to the motel rooms, but then a small spot of color caught my attention.
I walked toward the stairs that led up to the second floor, and as I climbed them, the colorful spot came in to focus. There was a little boy, maybe six or seven, hiding in the corner of the landing. Tucked away, so that if you weren’t looking for him, he’d probably go unnoticed.
He looked up as I crossed the landing, and I saw that he was wearing headphones and playing on some sort of tablet. When he caught sight of me, he stood up quickly and looked ready to bolt.
I held up my hand, asking him to stop, and, luckily, he did. I looked around, wondering which room he stayed in and where his parents were, then walked slowly toward him.
I motioned for him to take off his headphones, and he did so kind of reluctantly.
“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice low and gentle. “I’m Lila, what’s your name?”
“Terence,” he replied, after giving me a onceover.
“It’s nice to meet you, Terence. Are you staying here with your parents?”
“My mom,” he replied, glancing toward the door on my right. “She’s sleeping. She works at night.”
“Have you been staying here long?” I asked, hoping he’d keep talking.
Terence nodded and shifted his tablet under one arm.
“Were you here when all of the cops came?”
Another nod.
“Terence,” I began, crouching down so I was at eye level with him. “Did you see the pretty blonde lady with the short hair, before the cops came?”
Terence looked toward the room where I assumed his mother was sleeping, then his
eyes shifted back to me and he nodded again.
I tried to hold back my excitement and kept my tone even when I asked, “Was she with anyone?”
“Yes,” he replied softly, and I had to stop myself from jumping up and down.
“Can you tell me what he looked like?”
“He was big, with yellow hair,” Terence explained. “And he was wearing a suit, like Bruce Wayne.”
Carlton…
“Thank you so much, Terence, you’re the best,” I said, pausing to ruffle his hair before darting down the steps and running to Bran. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
