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“What’s the room number?” he asked.
She glanced down at the piece of paper in her hand that had the address of the motel in Kimball, Nebraska, less than two hours from Laramie. Brian had been right to expand the search radius, and she was grateful that Orson had come through, finding her.
The motel was right off the highway, not far after entering Nebraska from Wyoming.
“One twenty-five.”
He parked in front of room 103 near the front office. “Haley’s room should be all the way at the other end.”
“Why couldn’t you park across the street like I wanted?” she asked.
Unclicking his seat belt, he shifted to look at her and propped his forearm on the back of the seat. “Because I’ve got an uneasy feeling in my gut. Combine that with your penchant for finding trouble, and being across the street felt too far. Call it being caution, protective, whatever you want. But if you insist on going in there alone, this is how it’s going to be.” He tipped his hat at her.
She groaned, torn between arguing with him and kissing him. “Twenty minutes.”
“You’ve got ten. Then we’re bringing her in to DCI Powell.”
Sighing, she slid out of the truck.
“Hey, be careful,” he said. “When you first knock, don’t stand directly in front of the door.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t know what’s on the other side. She could be armed and jumpy. Not a good combination.”
Charlie nodded, closed the door and hurried down the walkway. The High Point motel looked as if it had seen better days. Old and run-down it had plenty of vacancies, judging by the nearly empty lot.
Drawing closer to the end of the building, she eyed the truck in front of the last door. A Ford F-150. Dark green. Older model. She knew the plate number.
Teddy’s truck. Was he alive, too, and hiding out with Haley?
Rushing up to room 125, she noticed that the sheer curtains were drawn across the window, but not the heavy blackout drapes. A television was on inside.
She knocked, standing off to the side near the window while she did it. “Haley!”
No answer.
“Haley!” She knocked again. “It’s me, Charlie. Open up.”
She strained to listen. No movement on the other side of the door. The only sound she picked up was the whoosh of the traffic on Old Highway 71. Charlie turned and stared at the Ford behind her.
“Haley, it’s just me, Charlie.” She pounded her fist. “Are you in there?”
The sound of the television died. Rustling inside the room. Maybe one person.
“Open this door!”
A chain slid back and rattled. The door swung open, and there stood Haley, pointing a Smith & Wesson .357 level at her chest. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question. Unless you’re going to shoot me, lower that thing.”
“Are you here alone?”
Charlie swallowed. She didn’t want to lie, but she also didn’t want to spook Haley by telling her that her companion was a detective who worked with her husband. “Do you see me with anyone?”
Wide-eyed and hair mussed, Haley stuck her head out the door and took a furtive glance around.
“Satisfied?” Charlie strode past her into the room.
