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I was restless. I could probably use some sleep, too, but that was probably a pointless endeavor with the sun still high in the sky and my thoughts racing like a greyhound around a track.
Before I could think about it for too long, I made a quick call to my head of security and second in command, Jason.
“Hey man. Listen, I need you to send someone out to watch this hotel room while I run an errand. Who’s the one with the dead eyes and perfect aim? Horatio? Yeah, send him. Great. Thanks.”
I sent Rachel a quick text, not wanting to wake her up, and knowing that she’d be pissed if she got up and I’d already broken my promise not to leave her behind or with a stranger. Horatio was more robot than man, it seemed, but still, I didn’t think she’d appreciate it.
Rachel, ran home to get a few things. Be back in an hour. There’s a guy outside the door that is one of mine. Call me if you need me.
It was a lie, but if I had the time, I would stop by my place and grab some clothes to make it less of one. There was no way in hell I was going to tell her where I was going.
The police records indicated that Trevor had crashed his car into an earthen wall approximately 20 miles from the Lace Elm house. The road was only two lanes and rarely used, but it cut through a small incline that was just tall enough to create a wall on either side. Shadow’s goons must have rubbed their hands together in glee when they saw this place and how perfectly it would fit their needs. One charge laid on the road, or a spike strip, and It’d be easier than sin to kill that poor, frail-minded man.
It had been six months, but apparently this road was far enough away from the city that it must not have been pertinent to disguise any damage Trevor’s car had left. It was all too clear where he had hit, and the scenarios that run through my mind were grim. Fuck, there was even glass still on the shoulders. No telling if it was from Trevor’s car or not, but considering how secluded this area was, it was a safe bet.
Thank God I didn’t bring Rachel.
The bottleneck of the walls on either side of the road meant there weren't many places to look for a lost Egyptian artifact, but I tried, anyway. Maybe there was something that would point me in the right direction.
The dirt had crumbled away on the impact site, so I kicked through the small piles one at a time, but there was nothing. It was a disappointingly meager area to search. I even backtracked and walked up the embankment of the incline, looking down at the crash site as if a new perspective would make the almost barren road spit out a clue, but still, there was nothing. Just the sad reminder of a man’s lost life, and likely his lost sanity, too.
It was coming up on evening now, and the scorching sun was easing. There was dust and dirt caking my boots, but that was the only thing I was going to be taking from this place.
Before I climb back into the Rover, I stopped with my hand on the door, and did something that felt at once both ridiculous and necessary.
“You’re a prick for leaving her behind the way that you did,” I said out loud, to a ghost of a man I was almost sure wasn’t there, “but I’ll get this shit handled the way you couldn’t. I’ll keep Rachel safe until it’s done.”
With the open air promise given, I climbed back into the vehicle, mentally checking off this possibility in my mind. I didn’t find anything, but by eliminating the crash site as a possible artifact location, I had moved a step closer to solving this mystery.
I checked the time on the dash, and thankfully, I had just long enough to run to my place and get some things before heading back to the hotel. I needed something as an alibi when I got back, because there was no way I was telling my client that I made an exodus out to where her fiancé died to have a chat with him.
She wouldn’t like that, I was pretty sure, but there was also the possibility it would get us back on the subject of curses, and that was something I’d like to avoid at all costs.
“You’re dismissed, Horatio,” I told the guard. He didn't respond, not that I expected him to, just nodded and went on his way.
“What a weird dude,” I muttered to myself, opening the hotel room door as quietly as I could, just in case Rachel was still sleeping, but it was a moot point, since she was seated on the sofa and looked up as soon as I walked in.
“I see you managed to sneak out,” she complained, but there was a hint of amusement in the tilt of her mouth.
“I left you in excellent hands,” I countered. “I needed some clean underwear.”
“Ha!” She laughed. “How would you know if I was in excellent hands? The guy didn’t speak a single word when I introduced myself. You might as well have put a cardboard cutout in front of the door.”
“Maybe if the cutout was ranked expert in marksmanship, sure.” I picked at one of the pastries still left on the room service cart, suddenly at a loss about what else I was supposed to do with this woman for the night.
“Did you sleep okay?” I asked lamely. She shrugged in response.
“Fine, I guess. I probably could have gone the whole night, but then I would have been up at four a.m. and miserable.”
“Yeah. Good idea.”
There should have been a million things for me to take a woman to do in Dallas during the evening, but anytime we were in public, we were at risk. Less of a risk than being isolated, like at the Lace Elm house, but still enough that I didn’t want to chance it less than eight hours after the shootout.
She must have been thinking the same thing, because she scrolled through her phone as if it was the most interesting thing on the entire planet at the moment.
I’d already gathered a ton of intel from online sources, thanks to Kevin, but maybe I could do a little work of my own to pass the time, or …
“There’s a pool,” Rachel said into the quiet room. “I know we can’t swim, no suits, but I thought we could at least get a little fresh air. Or not. I’m just talking to talk, I guess.”
