The gun trembled in Fernanda’s hand. She said nothing.
“You’re lucky you got away before they sent you to Atlanta. Dallas. LA. They’ve got hubs all over, clearing houses for beauties like you.”
Finally, in a small voice, Fernanda said, “Frank took me for himself.”
Even Ryan, cynical bastard that he was, had been worried about that. The girl was, indeed, Frank’s type to a T. “I am so sorry.”
Fernanda said nothing.
Ryan said, “How long’s it been?”
“Three months.”
“Frank O’Shea normally burns through two girls in a week. Just like Stanley.” Ryan felt himself shudder. “You must be special.”
Fernanda said, “You have no idea.”
Something about her stare sent the willies climbing up Ryan’s arms. He looked at Kyla, the girl breathing slowly on the bed. “So you girls are on the run from Frank?”
Fernanda said nothing.
“I’m not trying to turn you in. I’m just curious about one thing. When I met that guy Hunter on a smoke break, he said that Sarah Powers was apparentlyworkingfor Frank. Should I be worried about that?”
“You mean did I kill her? No. Did you?”
Ryan shook his head. It was the God’s honest truth: he hadn’t laid a hand on Sarah Powers tonight. He hadn’t even spoken to her.
He’d tried, but he hadn’t had the chance.
“It’s like I told Stanley in the office earlier,” Ryan said. “I was asleep until the screaming started. I went straight back to my room after that smoke break and dozed off.”
Fernanda pulled back the hammer of the gun. Itsclickcut straight through the air of the room. “That is a lie. I heard a man speaking with Sarah in her room next door at seven thirty. It was you.”
Ryan blinked. He said, truthfully, “It wasn’t. I never said a word to Sarah all night. It must have been Stanley you heard.”
Fernanda leveled the gun at Ryan’s face. “It was not, and I know it for a fact. It also could not have been Ethan or Hunter or Thomas. That only leaves one person.”
“Hold up—”
Her finger started to tighten on the trigger. “I think it is lucky you are still alive right now. Would you like to change this?”
Fernanda closed the door in his face. Ryan was losing his touch.
A bitter wind sliced across the motel. ASHRIEKrose in the dark. Ryan felt an awful certainty that something was wrong, that it was staring him in the face. He looked at his watch and found the time was 9:25. That didn’t feel possible; he thought for sure themechanism was running fast, but when he stepped into room 4 and looked at the alarm clock, he found the same time on display.
He also found Sarah Powers, but that wasn’t exactly the right way to put it. He’d been in this room once already this evening (but again—and he couldn’t stress this enough—he hadn’t killed her). That had been at 7:50, shortly before all the screaming started, and Sarah looked now exactly the way she had then. Nothing about the room had changed except for a plate of food that had fallen, face down, from Tabitha’s hands. Everything else here was exactly as Ryan had last seen it.
Again, he hadn’t killed Sarah. He’d had no interest in doing so. But hehadwanted to talk to Sarah, earlier in the night. Hadneededto talk to her. For the last six weeks, Ryan had been haunted by a memory that refused to be ignored. An old Native dude used to sleep alone in the cell next door to Ryan and Hunter, back in the penitentiary. Everyone around Huntsville had called the old man The Chief. Ryan used to think this was racist, but The Chief only shrugged.I’m the last man left of my tribe, The Chief used to say.I guess that makes me chief by default.
Ryan couldn’t think of anything sadder.
The night he died, The Chief had said some very strange—
terrifying shit your pants scary
—things. Had made some very strange requests. He’d urged Hunter to pass along a message to the beautiful young woman who’d lately taken to visiting the old man every few weeks.
You have to tell her. You have to tell her!
