Becca’s stomach churned with equal parts dread, anticipation, and hope. Wherever you are, Charlie, we’re coming. Just hang in there a little while longer.
BECCA’S HOPES WERE hanging on by a very thin thread with a frayed spot in the middle. After ruling out the two elderly ladies who lived at the residences on Marz’s initial list, they were on their way to a third motel. Apparently Charlie had been moving around a lot. What the hell made him so afraid? Any other time, she might’ve written it off to his paranoia, but given that someone had kidnapped and tortured him, he’d clearly behaved completely rationally.
And she hadn’t believed him the last time they’d chatted. Her stomach was a sour churning sea at the memory.
At the first seedy motel, it had taken the entire seventy-five dollars she’d had in her wallet to get the clerk to agree to look in their records to see when Charlie had checked in and out. He’d used the name Scott Charles—a combination of both her brothers’ names, which made Becca’s heart clench in her chest—and stayed for four days before he’d called a cab and left at the crack of dawn.
In case it took more bribes to track his movements, Becca made the maximum withdrawals from two different ATMs. In the meantime, Marz found what they needed in Yellow Cab’s dispatch records to locate Charlie’s second hotel, where he’d stayed only two days, and then his third.
Heading out Pulaski Highway, they crossed the city line into Baltimore County. With each hotel, Charlie had moved further away from his home. She couldn’t begin to imagine why he’d moved when he had—or what he’d been running from. It was like she’d stepped into the middle of a nightmare where nothing made sense and the rules changed the moment something became clearer.
A few minutes later, Nick eased his car into the parking lot of a roadside motel. Two stories high and maybe fifteen rooms wide, the place screamed cheap! or, maybe, rooms by the hour! Shane pulled in behind them in his pickup, and they all met outside the lobby.
“Third time’s a charm,” she said, forcing positivity she didn’t feel into her voice. The guys murmured words of encouragement she’d bet they didn’t really feel, either. They stepped inside.
“Can I help you?” the woman behind the desk asked around a wad of gum. Probably in her fifties and the definition of haggard, she had a drawn, bored look to her expression.
“I hope you can. My brother Charlie is missing, and we know that a cab dropped him off here on Sunday.” Six days ago. Six days ago Charlie might’ve been standing right where she stood now.
The desk phone let out a shrill buzz. “Excuse me a second.” She cracked her gum as she answered.
Becca frowned at Nick, and he gave her a wink that told her to hang in there. Suddenly, a wave of gratitude washed over her. No way she could’ve done this without him, without all of them. Not just because they provided protection and know-how but because they gave her the confidence and the wherewithal to go out searching for Charlie, to talk to people, to bribe them to talk to her. She’d always been more of the straightlaced, follow-the-rules type, so she was pretty close to certain she never would’ve had the lady balls to do that on her own.
“Someone will bring that right up,” the woman said and hung up the phone. “Marla?” She called the name twice, the second time nearly yelling. A slim woman in an outdated maid’s uniform rushed into the lobby from a door marked Staff Only. “Take new towels to 203,” she ordered.
With a quick glance at them, the housekeeper nodded and slipped back through the door.
“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” the woman droned.
Becca tamped down her annoyance and slid a flyer on the counter. “My brother Charlie is missing. We’re looking for him. And we know from Yellow Cab that they dropped him off here last Sunday.”
A bang sounded out behind her. Becca flinched and looked over her shoulder, noting that Nick had placed his body between her and the noise and the other guys had their hands in their jackets. The maid’s brown face blanched, and the door she’d apparently opened too hard slowly eased back toward her. “Sorry,” she said, bending to retrieve a pile of white terrycloth she’d dropped to the dingy tile floor.
The desk clerk rolled her eyes. “So, you think your brother stayed here?”
“Yes,” Becca said, releasing a breath. “Can you tell us how long he was here or when he left?”
“Sorry, hon. It’s against our policy to give out any information about our guests,” she said in the most patronizing tone on earth.
But Becca wasn’t dissuaded, since this was the same thing the other clerks had said, too. At first.
Checking over her shoulder, Becca waited for the maid to exit the lobby. Her gaze whipped back to the receptionist. “Is there anything I can do to convince you to help me? I have reason to believe Charlie’s life is in danger.”
The woman gave her a once-over and loudly chawed on her gum. “You’re not suggesting I do something unethical, are you?”
“You call it unethical. I call it doing the right thing. I know he was here, and I know when he arrived. I only need your help with when he left.” Frustration pricked at the back of her eyes.
“Sorry. If the police bring me a warrant, I’ll be happy to share.” She snapped her gum. Becca was ready to strangle her with it.
Nick leaned his hands on the counter. “We’ll make it worth your while,” he said with a nod toward her computer. “Can’t you help us?”
Her eyebrows flew to her teased hairline. “I think y’all better get on out of here.”
Becca’s stomach dropped to her feet. “Ma’am, please—”
Nick grasped her arms from behind and squeezed. “It’s okay. Come on,” he whispered against her ear. He bustled her across the lobby and out the door to the parking lot.
“What are we going to do now?” she said, looking up at Nick.
“We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.” When he rubbed her hand, she realized she was shaking.
Anger roared through her. They were so close. She felt it, like Charlie’d left an echo behind she could still hear. She blew out a long breath and looked away.
At the far end of the row of exterior doors, the maid they’d seen in the lobby—Marla, the clerk had called her—came jogging down a set of concrete steps. Head lowered, shoulders curled in, walking fast, it was like she didn’t want anyone to notice her . . .
On a gasp, Becca’s gaze whipped to Nick’s.
“I’m already with you,” he said. “She looks like a scared rabbit, though. You comfortable asking?”
Becca was already heading toward her. “Miss? Marla?” she said, walking fast across the parking lot, flyers in hand. “Can I please ask you a question?”
The woman lifted her head, her gaze darting between Becca, the guys, and the lobby door.
“Please? I need your help.”
Her shoulders sagging, Marla came to a stop, looked both ways, then waved Becca to follow her. She walked a few steps back the way she’d come and ducked into a dim hallway.
Becca followed at a jog. Nick called out after her, but she was too afraid the maid would slip away to wait for him. She crossed between two parked cars, hopped up onto the cracked sidewalk, and, heart a racehorse in her chest, stepped into the same hallway. At the end of a row of vending and ice machines, Marla stood with her arms crossed tight over her chest.
“Do you know something about my brother, Marla?” Becca asked, passing her a flyer.
Nick barreled into the hallway a moment later, a dark scowl on his face. He didn’t say a word, though the cocked eyebrow said plenty.