Page 4 of Fire Fight
I had no idea how long this investigation would take, but I knew I’d be here for at least seven days.
His mouth twisted, as though he was considering it, before he said, “That’s a higher rate.”
“That’s fine,” I assured him, trying and failing to give him a bright smile. “I won’t cause any problems.”
He rolled his eyes but muttered, “Better not.”
After a few signatures and putting down a four hundred dollar deposit for the next seven days—which was highway robbery, if you asked me—he passed an old key across the counter to me. “Room twenty-two, down at the end.” He indicated toward the side of the motel that butted up to the road.
I gave him a terse smile and turned on my heel to leave. I hopped back behind the wheel and moved Black Betty in front of my door. I would’ve preferred a room on the other end, away from the bustle of traffic, but I knew asking the twit at reception would’ve been futile.
Before lugging my belongings inside, I unlocked the door and entered. At first glance, it appeared clean, if a bit stale. The cream curtains were heavy and blocked most of the light from outside, providing me with a fair amount of privacy. Two full-sized beds dominated most of the space, as well as a dresser on which an ancient, boxy television sat, and a small round table with two chairs in the corner by the window. At the back was a wide counter inlaid with a sink and a large mirror above. The small bathroom contained only a shower/tub combo and toilet.
It suited my purposes fine despite being far from the most glamorous place I’d ever stayed.
Returning to Black Betty, I pulled out my laptop bag and the old bankers box I used in lieu of a briefcase for files and other pertinent case materials, leaving those by the table in the corner before going back out for the rest of my stuff. It took three trips, but eventually all of my worldly possessions were in the roomwith me. I beeped Black Betty locked, then shut the door behind me, flipping the bolt and throwing the security chain.
Sagging against it, I sighed in relief. I’d driven from Denver to Salt Lake City yesterday before coming the rest of the way today, so the drive hadn’t been excruciating, but I was still exhausted. Too much time alone with my thoughts, especially on a case like this, had me running a little ragged.
Nothing a good night’s sleep couldn’t fix.
two
. . .
CREW
After runningmy towel roughly through my hair to soak up the excess water, I wrapped it around my waist and padded from the showers toward my locker and a fresh set of clothes. It didn’t matter how many times I scrubbed up after a call, though. The scent of smoke was forever a part of my DNA.
In the row over from my locker, I could hear two of my crew members talking in hushed, excited voices.
Childers and Tuck from the sounds of it.
“She’s so hot.”
“Who is she?”
“No idea. Obviously not from around here, because I’ve never seen her before.”
“I’d like to seea lotmore of her, if you know what I mean.” I could practically see Tuck’s accompanying shoulder nudge and smarmy smile.
“Wanna make a bet?” Childers asked.
“What kind?”
“Let’s see which of us can get her number faster.”
“You’re on.”
“What the fuck are you two whispering about?” I asked.
My words were followed by the slam of metal, almost like one of them had startled and slammed into the lockers, and I chuckled.
A beat later, as I was pulling on fresh boxer briefs to cover my junk, Tuck’s head peeked around the corner.
“Hey, Cap,” he said with a sheepish grin.
Childers, not embarrassed in the slightest, fully entered the aisle and dropped onto one of the benches bolted to the floor. “There’s some chick in Chief’s office,” he said with a sly grin. “Fucking smokeshow.”
