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“It’s late, time for bed.”
“Already?”
“We have to get up early.” She had no idea what might happen tomorrow, but she knew she’d better think of some way to get them out of Ely as soon as possible, even if she had to spend the rest of her money on a car.
She glanced over at Preston once again. Now that she’d caught him staring at her, she expected him to scowl and turn away. But he didn’t. He flung the wet hair out of his eyes as his lips curved in a sexy grin.
How many women had felt their hearts pound at the sight of that devastating smile? she wondered. And why was he suddenly flashing it at her? He couldn’t be making any overtures of friendship. He’d already let her know, in a million ways, that he wasn’t interested in anything to do with her.
Climbing out of the water, she gathered her son and grabbed her towel. Then she threw Preston a look that said “Good riddance,” and left.
But just as she and Max were about to cross the street to the Feel Good Motel, Emma spotted a tall man with long straggling hair going into the office. She knew immediately that it wasn’t Manuel. But something about him seemed familiar.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WHERE HAD SHE SEEN him before? Emma couldn’t remember. He was tall, probably six-four, but thin, almost gaunt. As he spoke to the motel manager, he raised a hand to his waist as if to say “The boy’s about so tall.” At least her imagination insisted on that interpretation. But he was wearing a bandanna around his head and a leather vest, and he looked dirty, rough, which wasn’t Manuel’s style at all. Manuel was slick and sophisticated, wily and articulate.
“Why did we stop?” Max asked.
Emma didn’t know how to explain the hair standing up on the back of her neck or the strange sense of familiarity that had washed over her.
“Mom?” Finally Max sounded tired.
“We’re waiting for traffic to clear,” she said. But the street had been wide-open for the past three or four minutes, and she couldn’t bring herself to cross it, to move any closer to that man.
Max tugged on her arm. “Come on.”
Who was he? Had he been to the house before? Occasionally men stopped by to speak briefly to Manuel in his office. This could definitely be one of them. Or maybe she was imagining the danger, jumping at shadows, like she had with that red Toyota on Highway 5.
That had to be it, she decided and, taking Max’s hand, she stepped off the curb. This guy was only renting a room. Any minute, he’d sign a charge slip and stride out of the office with a key in his hand.
But the manager’s wife ushered him outside right away before he could sign anything. So Emma hopped back onto the sidewalk and drew Max into the shadow of the overhang on the gift shop.
The manager’s wife led the man across the parking lot. They paused every so often to speak, but it wasn’t difficult to see where they were heading. When they stopped in front of Room 21 and knocked, Emma knew her worst fears had come true. Room 21 was her room. Manuel, or rather someone connected to him, had found her.
“Mommy, can I have my eight-thirty snack?”
“In a minute.” A lot could happen in a minute. In this minute. She and Max couldn’t keep standing where they were, staring in shock and terror.
It looked as though the manager’s wife was taking out a master key.
Emma searched her mind for what they’d see as soon as they opened the door, and barely managed to stifle a whimper. Max’s biohazard container was sitting on top of the TV. The moment the tall man saw it, he’d know for sure that he’d found her. How many other women in Ely, who’d just rented a room, had a young diabetic son?
A horrible realization brought Emma’s hand up to her mouth. Max’s diabetes supplies! The backpack she’d packed so carefully before leaving San Diego was in the room, along with the biohazard dispenser.
“Can I have some ice cream?” Max asked.
Emma shook her head vaguely, distracted. Max needed the things in that backpack to survive. What was she going to do?
She had to get Max’s meds.
She couldn’t return to the room.
She had to think. Think, think, think!
Slowly, her brain started functioning again. Max’s tester kit was in her purse. She carried it everywhere. Provided she had enough needles, test strips and insulin in that small black pouch to get him through the night, she could buy more supplies in the morning, when the local pharmacy opened.
After rummaging in her purse, she came up with his kit and confirmed that she had a bottle of test strips, all three types of insulin and a needle. Then she told herself to breathe. She had a plan. With any luck, she could replenish what they’d lost.
But it was a risk she didn’t like taking. Buying the other products again would cost more than two hundred dollars. And it wasn’t only Max’s diabetes supplies they’d lost. They’d walked to the pool with only T-shirts over their swimsuits. They didn’t even have pants….
Clarity suddenly cut through her panic. Money didn’t matter. Clothes didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except Max. And he was what she stood to lose if she didn’t pull herself together and start moving.
Whirling, she hurried her son back toward the Starlight Motel.
“I thought we were going to bed,” Max said, frowning in confusion.
“Maybe later,” Emma murmured.
“Are we swimming again?”
“No.” Emma pictured the small police station they’d passed when they came into town and wished she could go there for help. She’d almost called the cops a million different times. But she had only one burn mark to prove Manuel could be cruel. The emotional scars didn’t show. He looked and acted the part of the consummate businessman, the perfect father, the considerate neighbor. And he was such a convincing liar. He’d blame everything on her, make her appear so emotionally unstable that the police wouldn’t do anything.
She could already hear what they’d tell her: I’m sorry, ma’am. We can’t very well arrest him before he does something wrong, can we? And she could also imagine her own helpless response: But afterward it’ll be too late.
She couldn’t count on the police. She could count only on herself. She had to be strong for Max.
Max was jogging to keep up with her. “Where are we going?”
Emma slowed as they reached the pool area. “Here.”
“Why?”
Because she couldn’t rent another room, not in such a small town. Once Manuel and the men working for him realized she wasn’t coming back to the Feel Good Motel, as they probably expected, he’d keep hunting for her. He’d ask every motel manager in Ely if a woman with a boy about five years old had checked in. Simply renting another room wouldn’t buy enough time; she needed somewhere to hide for the night.
