Page 78 of The Inmate
The driver’s side door to the Ford opens up. Someone gets out of the car. I recognize him immediately.
It’s Caleb McCullough.
I tug on the shades to partially conceal my face as I watch him. He goes straight to the main lobby and disappears inside. I stand at the window, wondering what’s going on in there. What is he doing in there?
My stomach churns. I’ve been so careful.
About ten minutes later, Caleb exits the lobby. He takes a left, and moves in the direction of my room. He pauses in front of the stairs that lead up to the second floor. Then he starts to climb.
I take a step away from the window. What’s going on? What is Caleb doing out there?
And then he disappears from my line of sight. He must be on the second floor. I can hear his footsteps on the walkway, growing louder. And then…
Three loud knocks on the door to my room.
He’s here.
ChapterForty-Six
I don’t answer immediately.I back away from the door, wiping my hands on my blue jeans. I glance around the room anxiously.
He knocks again.
“Dawn!” His voice travels through the thin door like he’s in the same room as me. “Come on, Dawn, open up!”
I walk over to the door. I flip open the deadbolt, then I turn the lock. Caleb is standing there, his brown hair tousled by the wind even though he never ended up going on that 5K run, and he’s holding a white paper bag I hadn’t noticed him carrying. He thrusts it in my direction. “I brought this for you,” he says.
I step aside as he enters the motel room. I shut the door behind him, lock it, and throw the bolt again.
“Did you see her get arrested?” I ask him.
He grins at me. “Yeah, I wasright there. I wish you had seen her face, Dawn. It was epic.”
“I’ve been watching it on the news all morning.” I glance at the television screen, which is now dark. “I wish I had it on repeat.”
Caleb digs around in his pants pocket and pulls out his phone. “It’s all over the internet. Let’s eat, and then you can go nuts.”
I want to watch it now, but I’m too hungry to argue. I rip open the paper bag and pull out a turkey sandwich with mayonnaise on white bread. Caleb knows I like monochromatic meals. He even made sure the bag was white. He knows me so well.
The color of food is more important than people think. Green sea turtles get their color from what they eat. They are primarily herbivores, and consume mostly seagrass and algae. The food gives their cartilage and fat a green color.
“Just one sandwich?” I ask. “You don’t want anything?”
“I grabbed a burger on the way over.” He shrugs. He doesn’t care about things like food color. He’s not like me. He’s normal. Well, as normal as any guy plotting to frame his girlfriend for murder can be. “Go ahead. Eat. You must be starving.”
I tuck into the sandwich, nearly ripping it apart in my eagerness. I haven’t been eating very well this week. I brought some food with me and I’ve been stashing it in the mini-fridge in the room, but as I said, I’m afraid to go out much. Caleb only dared to come here once this week to bring me food. So I’ve been eating a lot of vending machine meals. My nutritional status is suffering.
Caleb hesitates at the foot of the bed, looking around the room with his forehead scrunched up. “This place looks different.”
“I reorganized.”
He does not ask me why, although I would be happy to explain that the furniture in this motel room was arranged completely incorrectly. I moved the dresser, the mini-fridge, and the lamp to be in ascending order of height. I also did quite a bit of cleaning, as it’s clear the janitorial staff of the motel has been quite reticent in their duties. If he were to enter the bathroom, he might appreciate the way I reorganized all the toiletries he brought me.
But he also might not.
“Why were you down in the main lobby?” I ask around a mouthful of turkey and white bread.
He frowns. “Did youcallNatalie?”
