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He tracked her usual charges, payments. Groceries, insurance, gas, the monthly payment to her greedy grandmother. And frowned over a charge for seven hundred and change at a jeweler in Westridge.
“What’s all this, Morgan? Getting extravagant? We can’t have that, no, we can’t have that. Not while I’m stuck in this hellhole. Time for a little reminder. Time to touch base.”
He sat back, drumming his unkempt nails on the rough wood table.
“Let’s see, let’s see.”
Closing his eyes, he nearly nodded off in the chair before he shook himself awake, scratched his belly.
He used her account, ordered some slutty clothes—she was a whore, after all. Then went to another site, and another to order whatever caught his eye. Garbage bags, because she was garbage, room deodorizers because garbage stank, always keeping the purchase under five hundred.
He had so much fun he kept at it, hit an online florist for a funeral wreath, and filled out the card.
Morgan, always remember.
“That ought to do it. Yeah, that ought to do it just fine.”
The fun worked up an appetite, so he went in, opened a can of chili. He didn’t bother to heat it up, but ate straight out of the can.
“Another few weeks, that’s all. Just to make sure, make damn sure.Head east before much longer. Maybe catch some of that Vermont foliage. That’s the ticket. Catch some of that color, right? Catch it, kill her dead. Kill her dead and close that deal, collect that debt.”
He tossed the empty can toward the trash, licked the fork.
“Get what she owes me, and it’s smooth sailing again. She’s bad luck, that’s what she is. Brought me bad luck.”
With his belly full, he decided to take a nap. He’d make that list, go into town tomorrow. He didn’t feel like cleaning himself up now. Tomorrow was good enough. Tomorrow meant one more day closer to taking care of business.
As he lay down on sheets he’d sweated through the night before, Beck and Morrison made a pass through Gabbs, then drove to Two Springs.
They’d checked both outlying motels, the single twelve-room hotel in town, shops, eateries. They sat down with the local cops.
It took most of the day and produced not a single hit.
At the end of it, they sat in a little restaurant where the air ran blissfully cold and ate surprisingly good enchiladas.
“We’re not wrong, Quentin, I swear we’re not wrong. There hasn’t been a sign of him in Washington since we started south.”
“Not seeing anything this way either.”
“Not yet. But it still feels right.”
“Maybe he’s gone well and truly to ground. Taking a frigging sabbatical. Or we’re not altogether wrong, but he headed east. Montana, Colorado. Arizona.”
“Let’s do this. We give this another day, get a couple of rooms, work the problem again, get some sleep. Start fresh tomorrow and go into the national forest, brief the park rangers. We get nothing, we take a break. I want to sleep in my own bed with my husband.”
“Another day,” he agreed. “We could use a break, clear the mind, maybe find a new angle. It’s starting to feel like chasing our tails, Tee. I think we were right about him baiting us up north, I think we had that right. I just don’t know if we’ve got this right. Not a damn sign of him.”
“One more day, a break, then back at it. Since we’re staying, let’s have a beer.”
“I can get behind that.”
At the resort, well before her shift, Morgan knocked on Lydia’s door. She knew the matriarch was in, just as she knew word had already spread. She’d wanted to wait until she had the ring on her finger again, but since word spread, she opted for now.
“Come!”
She opened the door. “Could I speak with you a minute? I have a meeting with Nell coming up, but I wanted to speak to you first if you have time.”
“All right, come in, sit. It gives me a chance to tell you Mick and I are very pleased.”
