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“Of course,” Nick answered. “Of course.”
They opened the door and stepped inside. A woman of about fifty with fiery red hair sat at the counter, her attention glued to a portable television. She was clearly annoyed by their questions but became tolerably agreeable to helping after Nick placed a hundred-dollar bill on the counter.
“Listen, boys. This ain’t the Waldorf. Couples come in, do their business, then get the hell out. I don’t pay much attention to who checks in, but a guy with a face full of scars…that I’d remember.”
“What room is the short stocky one in?”
The woman threw back her head and spat a laugh like the braying of a mule. “All of them.”
Incensed, Eric slammed a hand on the counter hard enough to make an odd collection of items resting on it bounce. “The one who’s been here all week! The one we asked about when we called. What room is he in?”
“Jeez, mister, calm down. He’s in bungalow fifteen.”
As Eric and Nick hastened out, she called, “take whatever you’re looking for with you, okay?”
Outside, they slowly and quietly stepped to the bungalow. Lights burned inside and Nick tapped on the door. It creaked open.
****
Janie groaned and twisted her small body against the mattress. Mark stared down at her, watching to see if she was coming to, but she just shifted and settled deeper into worn linens. He lifted the bottle of tequila and brought it to his lips. It was empty and he pounded the bottom desperate to force the last drops into his mouth. The feeling of bugs, hundreds of prickly little feet seemed to suddenly skitter against his skin. He’d fucked up and needed to get away, but cops were probably already crawling all over the place.
The child moved again. Golden hair spilled over her shoulders. The stirring memory of Angel, her velvet skin and silken hair sliding between his fingers, fleetingly replaced the panic. But the little girl, sedated and groaning on the bed, wasn’t the product of that long ago morning of bliss. A cry, born deep in his chest, tore from his throat.
****
Bungalow fifteen was empty. Eric rubbed his eyes. He barely had the strength to utter curses of frustration.
Nick upended the wastebasket, and packaging for a burner phone, and two gigabyte thumb-drive fell out. “Belka was here.” A bag of Chinese takeout, still stapled and closed, sat on a table. A pair of shoes was by the bed, and a bottle of antacid tablets on the nightstand. “Looks like he left in a hurry.”
“Shit.” Eric kicked one of the chairs and knocked it against the muddy colored wall. “He knows where Mark is. And he knows he has Janie.” Eric rubbed his middle. His ribs felt like they were stabbing into his lungs. He would gladly make a deal with the devil and endure the pain forever if it meant finding his daughter safe.
“Call Jenna’s place again; tell the cops to look for Belka, see if he booked a flight anywhere. Tell them what we found here.”
Nick made the call quickly. “What now?”
“We’re going with your first plan. We’re going to start knocking down doors.”
They stepped outside. Most of the bungalow windows were dark. In some there was a faint, flickering glow of a television. A coyote howled somewhere in the distance. An owl screeched, and the cry of either a baby fox or cat pierced the air. Eric whipped his head around when he heard a man yelling.
****
“Wake up!” Mark Chambers trembled with rage and panic. Janie’s inert body fluttered as he shook her. “Wake the fuck up!”
He needed to see the fear in her expression, to see the overwhelming terror in Eric’s eyes. But the child’s head lolled heavily on her shoulder, and all Mark could see was the slow, steady pulse at her throat as she slept. It was pointless. She wasn’t going to come to.
“This is all your fault!” he shouted “You and your cunt of a mother’s. Eric was my friend, but she ruined everything.”
Growling, guttural and low, he slipped his arm around Janie’s throat and began to squeeze.
****
Jenna sat limp on the edge of Janie’s bed, holding the stuffed puppy in her hands. Kyle was back at her side, his arm tight around her shoulder. She gasped and sprang to her feet panting and choking.
“What’s wrong, Jen?” Kyle grabbed her, grappling to still a sudden trembling that quickly turned into turbulent shaking.
Randi jumped from her spot on the bed. “Is she having a seizure? Why is she shaking like that?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Jen, can you hear me? Sis, what is it?”
