Page 66 of Drive To Survive

NICO

I started up my satnav and plugged in motels within a three-mile radius. There were nine. I ruled out four as too expensive, even though each one was less than a hundred dollars a night, and headed for the cheapest one first, a forty-nine-dollar delight.

I pulled off the road into the parking lot. “Wait here,” I said. Then, as I glanced around and caught sight of a bunch of young guys hanging out on the street corner, I changed my mind. “On second thought…”

Everly caught my drift and climbed out. I held her tightly to my side and pushed open the door with a rusty sign to the side that read “Office.” A man sat behind a battered old desk, his feet resting on the top and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. He didn’t even look up as we entered.

“Rooms are forty-nine plus tax. Checkout is at eleven.”

“We’re looking for someone,” I said in my best clipped English.

Everly removed Paul’s photograph from her pocket and gave it to me. The motel owner, or manager, or whatever the hell he was, huffed, spun his baseball cap around, and peered up at us. His eyes lit up, and he gave Everly a full top-to-toe appraisal.

I growled, shoving her behind me. “This guy.” I held the photo in front of his face. “Have you seen him?”

He squinted, burped, rubbed his stomach, and then peered at the photograph. “Nah, never seen him.”

“You sure?” I asked. “He might have had a kid with him. Six years old.”

“I ain’t seen him,” the man repeated. “Try the Castle a couple blocks over.”

“Thanks.”

I turned Everly around, and we left the office. She blew out a breath.

“What a charming man.”

“World’s full of them,” I said, shooting her a grin.

She smiled, but it didn’t hold. I drew her in for a brief kiss. “We expected to strike out on the first one, yeah? Let’s keep going.”

We stopped by three more motels. None of them had seen Paul, either with or without Rhett. The more time passed, the lower Everly’s shoulders dipped. She kept checking her phone, then sighing when it remained stubbornly silent.

It had turned six in the evening, and Rhett had been missing for an estimated five and a half hours when I parked at our fifth motel, a marginal improvement on the other four. I shifted in my seat to face Everly. “Why don’t you wait here?” I said, satisfied there weren’t any gangs hanging around. “I’ll be two ticks.”

“Okay.” Her eyes went to her phone again as if, by sheer willpower, she could make it ring with positive news about Rhett’s whereabouts.

I kissed her on the cheek and ducked out of the car. This time, I came face-to-face with a woman, probably in her late thirties. She sat up straight when I walked in, and smoothed her hair, blinking about ten times a second.

“How may I help you?”

I gave her a megawatt smile and held up Paul’s photograph. “I’m looking for this man. Have you seen him?”

She leaned forward and, to her credit, gave the picture a thorough look. “Yeah, I think I do remember this guy. He came by a few days ago looking for a place to stay. Short-term. I told him we were full, but that Belview might have rooms.” She puffed out her chest. “It’s not quite as nice as my place, but it’s better than a lot of the fleapits around here.”

“Belview?”

“Yeah.” She motioned with her arm. “Keep going on this road, past the diner on the corner. You can’t miss it.”

Hope burgeoned in my gut. Could this be it? “Thanks so much. You’ve been really helpful.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Bond.” She cackled with laughter. “Y’know, James Bond. It’s the accent.”

I smiled again, a genuine one this time. “You’re quite a character.”

“You want my number?” she asked.

“Tempting, but I’m already taken, I’m afraid.”

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