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“Some woman?”
“Yeah, didn’t know her name but showed me an old photograph.” He scratched his jaw, looking at the ceiling.
“I need to know this why?”
Shrugging, he shuffled behind the counter. “Just seemed odd. You know?”
“Sure.” I started to turn away when he coughed.
“Wait. Do you want a picture of her?” he asked, his grin almost repulsive.
“You took a picture?”
He looked sheepish then reached into a box, shifting through at least four dozen photographs, finally tossing me one. A freaking Polaroid picture. I didn’t even know they made the instant processing cameras any longer. It had been my father’s favorite. He never left home without it.
“I’m not going to ask why you took it but it’s mine now.” I slipped it into my jacket pocket, shaking my head. There were weirdos everywhere.
“Hey, bring it back if you find her.”
If.
That didn’t bode well for my reputation.
Or my mood.
CHAPTER2
Afew hours earlier…
Lily
A historical treasure, huh?
The lobby looked like a treasure box from the nineteen eighties had exploded in the middle of the teensy-tiny room, splatter-fucking the walls with vibrant neon and provocative posters from God knows what. Did the old dude who owned the place really think he was attracting tourists?
Exhaling, I tried not to overhear his conversation but the way he was depicting the motel from hell to an unknown party almost made me laugh.
Or throw up a little in my mouth.
“I’ll be happy to pencil you in for a reservation. Six nights? Fantastic!” He was like a kid in a candy store, scratching down information on a notepad instead of using what appeared to be a computer positioned right in front of him. Then again, it had seen better days, likely at least ten plus years old.
I grabbed one of the maps in the cracked acrylic magazine racks, studying the artwork used on the cover. Whoever had designed it had thought using cartoon characters was the way to go. Whatever. As long as it got me to a gorgeous destination for a few photographs of the mountains, I couldn’t care less.
“I’ll see you then.” He snorted as he ended the call, fingering the sheet he’d written on before bothering to look in my direction. “Can I help you with something?”
“I’m in room six? Remember me, Lily Sanborn?”
Amelie Rathbone was dead, Lily Sanborn taking her place. I liked the name. It was softer, like a brush with velvet or a whispered kiss on a spring day. I’d known some people, getting a fake ID before leaving Chicago but under close scrutiny, I knew it wouldn’t pass the fake test. Still, it made it real, something I could stand behind.
I’d spent four days in Missoula, venturing out several times in my search for answers. It had been worse than looking for a needle in a haystack. No one had heard of Elizabeth Rathbone or her maiden name of Robinson. It was as if she hadn’t existed and with how little I remembered, my search was becoming abysmal.
I was stressed, fearful of being found and determined to bring my father to his knees. I needed a break, to pretend my life hadn’t been destroyed. Maybe a hike in the mountains, taking a few pictures would ease the tension.
“How could I forget a pretty face? What do you need, little lady?”
The guy was creepy, but at least the crappy room had a decent lock. “Is this the best trail to see wildlife?”
He lifted his sunglasses, peering at the map. “Yup. It’s right behind the motel too. I’d hiked it many a time but if you want to go further up the mountain, I’d take your truck part of the way.”
