He’d kept staring down at her file which had been lying open on his desk for a long time, hoping to avoid eye contact. He liked to think she’d known what it was like to lose a child although he’d never know what it was like to be a parent. He’d wanted to be a father more than anything, had even picked out a spot on his desk for the perfect family picture but ended up with his and Alicia’s wedding photo in its place.

  She’d sat up in her chair, leaned across the front of his desk, slid her hand across the desktop and brushed her palm across the back of his hand in slow bizarre circles. He’d raised his head up and gazed at her; something thick and electric filled the room, bristled across their skin. Their cheeks reddened as the hairs on the backs of their necks and along their arms grew stiff.

  He glanced at the ribbed golden picture frame with his and Alicia’s wedding photo sitting on his desk and then back at her. One minute later, the picture frame went face down on his desk; so did Danielle.

  They’d decided to meet here so as not to draw too much attention. Alicia had been friends with most of his co-workers so he feared that something would slip. Now that they were here, there’d been nothing for them to worry about.

  “Are you okay, baby?”

  Danielle gave a playful little giggle and bit down on the tip of her right thumb. If she were on the cover of a car magazine he’d have bought a hundred copies.

  “Was it good, baby?” She said.

  She stood inside of the bathroom, a wide pleasing grin on her face. She crossed her ankles together, braced the door frame with both hands and leaned across the doorway so her large pale breasts hung down from her chest. A cloud of strawberry perfume wafted across his nose, sent waves of joy flooding through his body when they heard a loud creaking sound.

  The door swung open.

  The look of sexual prowess on Danielle’s face crumpled with stark-white terror. Her wide playful smile sunk into a lopsided frown. Tears brimmed in the corners of her dark narrow eyes, protruded from their corners and slid down her burning cheeks.

  A figure stepped inside the room and paused in the middle of the room. When Colin saw the strand of red hair jutting out from the sides of a dark blue Smashing Pumpkins ball cap, his heart sank toward the pit of his stomach. Snakes of icy-cold fear slithered down his back, coiled around his spine and pinned him onto the bed.

  His eyes wide with fear, he clutched the bed sheets in his rough manly hands until his knuckles turned white. He swallowed as a sharp acidic aftertaste tingled against the roof of his mouth and danced across his tongue.

  He didn’t know how long she’d been crying but the bright-red splotches around her eyes had told him. One of his co-workers might’ve noticed that he and Dani were having their therapy sessions “outside” of his office a lot. He wouldn’t put it past her that she’d done her homework and collected enough evidence before choosing the precise moment when to confront him.

  Her lips quivered as a fresh set of tears slid down her cheeks. To go with the ball cap, she wore a pair of stone-washed jeans, a maroon pullover and a pair of white deck shoes. The razor-sharp glint in her eyes told him there would only be one way out of this and nothing else.

  The only sharp object that’d been used in this case was the dagger he’d plunged into Alicia’s back. It was then, as Alicia and Danielle traded glances, that he realized he could’ve been honest with her and told her how that last miscarriage had gnawed at him, about how he’d felt his chance still to be a father slip through his fingers and there was no other way for him to deal with it other than this.

  Her lips quivering, Alicia scanned Danielle up and down, her eyes glinting like tiny pinpricks of light. Danielle hurried across the room, her curvy pound-cake ass jiggling out from behind her and plopped down into the chair beside of the large round wooden table sitting under the window facing the rear of the motel.

  “Well.” Alicia said. “Did you fuck her good, Colin? You better answer this woman, honey. Aren’t you supposed to answer someone when they ask you a question? Isn’t that how it’s supposed to go. Was it good, honey? I’m asking you—”

  “Alicia, please. Let’s just—”

  “She’s asking you a question, honey. Was it good!” She said. “Tell me, Colin. Was it? Was it good?”

  Her hand slid into the front pocket of her pullover and stayed there. A wave of gooseflesh broke out across his skin in concentric waves. His hands quivering with a mixture of fear and shock, he snatched a quick breath and held it until it hurt.

  He watched Alicia’s right hand slide out of the front of her hoodie and sighed, relieving the pressure in his lungs. His chest rising and falling beneath a series of labored breathing, he saw the nickel-plated Smith and Wesson .38 clenched tightly inside of her right fist and felt his heart stutter. The light streaming through the curtains glinted off the six-inch barrel.

  They’d purchased the gun last spring after their next-door neighbor Gladys Hixson’s house was broken into. They’d gotten their concealed-carry permit, waited for the results of a government background check and then purchased it. They’d spent long hours at a local shooting range, practicing with paper targets fastened across large bales of hay at first before being upgraded to watermelons and cantaloupe.

  The lingering thought that she could end him with one perfectly aimed shot made his stomach clench with dread. He brushed it off, slid the covers aside, swung his legs over the side of the bed and slid out of bed. When his feet touched the cold floor, he walked around to the other side of the bed and approached her, arms raised at shoulder level.

  “Honey.” He said. “You don’t want to do anything drastic.”

  “How do you know what I want to do, huh? Did you think I wouldn’t find out, you son of a bitch?” She said. “Did you forget that credit cards leave breadcrumbs?”

  She emphasized the point by thumbing back the hammer.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  COLIN blinked and he sat up in bed. He clutched the rumpled sheets inside of his tight, white-knuckled fists, drew a thick cloud of hot stale air deep into his lungs and exhaled. Droplets of sweat clung to the back of his tee-shirt, secreted inside of his pits and trickled down his sides.

  Dust motes floated in the shafts of sunlight pouring through the blinds. Gusts of cool air spewed from the gray metal box fan sitting in the far left corner of the room and swept across the room in soft generous waves.

  He sighed, rubbed the sleep grit from the corners of his eyes with the backs of his hands and yawned. The coffee they’d shared last night had intensified their fatigue. Ten minutes after their first cup he’d thanked her again for allowing them to stay the night and slept like a newborn.

  He slid over to the edge of the bed, yawned again and stretched until it hurt. He licked the patch of sleep paste clinging to the roof of his mouth, pursed his lips together and grimaced. He threw his legs over the side, tied his boots and slid out of bed. He padded across the room, slipped his pullover off the three-legged metal hook fixed to the wall beside of the bedroom door, tossed it over his right shoulder and left the room.

  The hallway had sea-foam green walls adorned with framed photos of various sizes of people who once lived here or were victims of circumstance. A pair of bowl lamps with glass shades the color of a smoker’s teeth hung down from the ceiling, coated with dust and cobwebs. Four antique wooden doors, four spacious rooms.

  The door on the far left swung open on slow creaking hinges, pouring a second carpet of light across the hallway. Jason stepped out of his room in the same clothes he’d worn and his little sister strapped to his chest wearing the same onesie Stacey had changed her into back at the other side of town. Anger registered across his face, etching tiny parentheses around the corners of his mouth and narrow dark eyes.

  Colin thought they should stop in someplace along the way and fetch them some clean clothes. They could all probably use a new wardrobe. He saw the lethargic look on Jason’s face, glanced down at the floor and smiled without trying to hide it. If they made good time, then they could reach the auto shop and get back to the boat by nightfall.

  The pleasing smell of hotcakes and bacon wafted through the house. Jason closed his eyes and drew that appetizing smell deep into his lungs; his stomach gave a low growl.

  Colin gave him an elated grin as the loud cough of static burst across the house, stirring them out of their food-induced reverie. In a pair of slacks and a lime-green button-down shirt, Dominic fled down the stairs, his pale chubby face jiggling with each step. He hissed, pushed past him so hard he’d nearly knocked him over and stormed off into the kitchen.

  Colin reared his head back, braced his hands on his hips and gazed down at the floor. He took a few deep breaths and slid his left hand down his chin. He didn’t know how much of this guy’s crap he was willing to take but it wouldn’t be for too long; as much as he’d liked to hit that prick on his way out he felt a lot better knowing he was leaving his fat ass here.

  “What the hell is his problem?” Jason said.

  “Don’t talk to him, okay? We’re gonna grab some breakfast and head out.”

  “Can’t we stay a little longer?”

  “I’d like to but we can’t.”

  “Okay.”

  He gave Rosie’s back a reassuring pat, rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with the knuckles on his left hand and followed him down stairs. When he they entered the dining room, the thick pleasing smell of hot food wafted across their nose. A stack of dirty dishes coated with sporadic crusts of pancake batter sat inside of a stainless-steel sink brimming with murky gray water.

  A pair of large melamine platters sat beside the microwave, holding separate stacks of hotcakes and a tower of bacon. The white coffee maker sitting on the far-right corner coughed like a chain smoker, spewing ghosts of steam across the kitchen. A loud screeching sound blared across the living room and echoed off the walls.

  He stacked a small mound of bacon and pancakes onto a plate, found the container of peas inside of the fridge and a spoon and handed both items over to Jason. He knelt beside of Jason, brushed a strand of hair away from his ear with his right hand and held the plate in his left.

  “Take this into the dining room with your sister and eat.”

  Jason nodded and did as he was told.

  He pushed through the batwing doors and stepped inside the dining room. A flat-screen television sat against the left above a two-tier wooden shelf stacked with DVDs and a sleek-black DVD player. Teresa sat in front of an old card table, tinkering with the buttons on an old-fashioned CB radio; Dom sat on the left arm of the couch, his knee barely touching her and watched with wide-eyed interest.

  “This is Deputy Teresa Quintero calling from the city of Milton Ridge, Ohio. If anyone can answer me please respond.” She said, releasing her thumb. “I say again if you can respond to my request, please do so.”

  Static popped out from the radio. Dominic blotted his chubby pale hands against the legs of his jeans and sighed. She flipped the dial to another channel, thumbed the button and spun sideways in her chair.

  She pressed the button again. “If you can hear me please respond.”

  Static burst across the room again. She was hunched over, bracing her left knee with her left hand and grasped the mike in her right hand. A ring of sweat hugged the front collar of her work shirt and a tiny dollop of pancake batter clung to her left breast pocket.

  “If anyone can—”

  “Have you been able to reach anyone?”

  Dominic’s head snapped up at the sound of Colin’s voice. He rolled his eyes and stood up from the couch to meet his gaze.

  “No not yet.” She said.

  Colin peered over her shoulder. “Do you mind?”

  Dominic inched his way between them and poked his finger against his chest. “Don’t worry about what we’re doing. Breakfast is done so you can just–”

  “I wasn’t asking you.”

  Dom said. “Just mind your own business.”

  Colin said. “I just want to help.”

  “Haven’t you done enough already? You and your little friends got a free meal and a good night’s sleep. Why don’t you do us all a favor and get the hell out?”

  Teresa ignored them, thumbed the button on the mike and tried once more. Dom shuffled to the left and then the right, blocking Colin’s view of the CB radio and leaving only an inch of space between them. Footsteps paraded down the stairs, shuffled across the front room and stopped on the other side of the door.

  Dominic jabbed his finger over Colin’s right shoulder. “If you know what’s best for you, you’ll go into the kitchen and—”

  “Fuck you.” Colin said. “If she doesn’t want my help, she can tell me herself.”

  “You wouldn’t be here if I had my way about it.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” He said. “We’ll be out of here as soon as possible.”

  When Colin glanced over his left shoulder, Pixie stood inside the doorway, wearing a bright blue robe with a plunging neckline.

  “You’re being a pain in the ass, you know that?”

  She dialed in another frequency and tried again. With of their incessant yammering, he was surprised she’d been able to hear anything. He snuck another glance over Teresa’s shoulder when Dominic shoved him against the kitchen doorway.

  He wished he could convince Dominic that he was just trying to help, but egotism could never be quelled by simple reasoning. They stood there, eyeing each other like schoolkids before an afternoon brawl. He was glad Jason and Rosie were sitting in the dining room because it would just make things a little more uncomfortable.

  “Don’t push me again.”

  “What are you going to do if I do?”

  “Stop it, now.” Teresa said.

  She rose out of her seat, tossed the mike onto the table and sent it rolling out of reach. She slipped something out from the back waistband of her jeans and held it tightly against her right thigh. Colin waited for her to speak up when something smashed against his right temple, spreading a network of pain across the right side of his face.

  He reeled back, clutched the right side of the kitchen doorway with his right hand and saw Dominic rearing his left fist back for another shot. Teresa cursed under her breath, snapped her right foot out in front of her and drove the tip of her boot hard into Dominic’s left hip. He hissed between tightly clenched teeth, sat down onto the couch and gazed up at her wide puzzled eyes.

  Colin shook the stars out of his eyes, scowled under his breath and took a step toward Dominic when something pressed against his left cheek, stopping him in his tracks. His jaw throbbing, he glanced down and saw the barrel of her nickel-plated .22 pistol nudging against the pit of his stomach.

  In all of this confusion, he’d forgotten about the pistol she’d bragged about yesterday.

  “This is not the time to be fighting like a bunch of children.” She said. “What makes you so sure you can reach someone?”

  “If you’re trying to reach The National Guard you’re wasting your time because they don’t give a shit.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I’ve tried too many fucking times to count.”

  He took a second (even if it were going to be his last) to notice there was something off about her. The heavy bags under her eyes and the thick syrupy tone to her voice were all classic signs of fatigue.

  As an officer of the law, she’d spent plenty of nights pushing paperwork and breaking up bar fights until sundown. Her body had its own internal alarm clock, snapping her awake on nights when she craved sleep and freedom the most. In a dead and quiet world, danger still loomed around her whether it was from the people who wanted to tear her apart or the ones who didn’t.

  “This is not divide and conquer.” She said. “I will throw both of your asses outside.”

  Dominic rubbed his right hand back and forth across his shin. “What the fuck, Quin. He started it.”

  Her face creasing with fury, Teresa swung the pistol toward the corner of the room and squeezed the trigger. The gun barked, sending a peal of thunder across the house. A large fist-sized hole flew out of the wall and spewed a funnel of dust and drywall across the room onto the floor.

  Colin waited for the ringing in his ears to subside and flicked his gaze from Dominic to her. Jason had ducked down inside the doorway, his hands clamped over Rosie’s ears. Pixie had come out from behind the right side of the doorway and peered at Teresa with wet rheumy eyes.

  Teresa lowered the gun and scowled at Dominic and Colin. “Whoever interrupts me gets the next one. Understand?”

  It was clear to Colin these people were wound tight as a barb-wire fence; their positivity had died long ago.

  “I don’t want you to have to go out of your way anymore.” He said. “I need to make a call before I leave.”

  She lowered the pistol and sighed. He stepped past her, walked toward the table and picked up the mike. He tweaked a few dials, rolled a few more knobs between his thumb and fingers and called out for Jason.

  When he came into the room, Rosie was still sniveling from her last crying fit. Teresa holstered her weapon, brushed a strand of hair from her sticky wet brows and tucked it behind her left ear.

  “What station does your brother’s army post originate from?”

  After he gave him the name, he dialed in the proper channel.

  “What’s your brother’s name?”

  He tweaked a few dials, thumbed the mike and raised it to his lips. “Breaker, breaker, do you read?”

  “This is a secure military channel, sir.” A stern authoritative voice uttered from the mike. “How did you get this station?”

  “That doesn’t matter right now. I’m looking for Private First Class Rory Russell.”

  Jason said something over the squawk of static spewing from the mike.

  “He’s an engineer or something like—”

  A series of muffling sounds came from the other end of the line.

  “Is that you, Jason? Jason, it’s Mom. Please God tell me you’re okay.”