The teenager shakes her head back and forth, closes her eyes, and sighs. “As instructed, I knocked on the hotel door and cracked it open. Instead of my client, Akash was on the bed. He wasn’t moving and his lips were blue. I felt for a pulse, both wrist and neck, but couldn’t be sure so I put a mirror to his mouth. It didn’t steam so I placed my ear to his chest. I know it was stupid, but I couldn’t believe he was dead, so I panicked. I mean, forensics would have a field day. Eventually, I remembered how Ronnie said if I ever ran into trouble, I should call her. So, I did.”
“Did she help you move the body?”
“No. She called someone and said it would be taken care of. Then, she let me stay at her place. After a few days, she suggested I start again in New York with a new identity, I was all for it. She said she’d introduce me to some big fish with lots of dough.”
We all turn at the opening front door where Slate whistles through his teeth. “We need to go. Out. Fast.”
“Move.” I jump off the stool, grab two coats off the lounge chair, and push the women toward the nearest stairwell.
On the bottom floor, my pal catches my gaze. “Car. Be right back.”
“What’s going on? Why are you acting like this?” Chrissy’s eyes widen at me, but I stay silent, focused on the street.
Sam recaptures the teen’s attention by holding up her jacket and helping her in. “Why did you run?”
“Oh my God. The drive to New York got weird. Ronnie wouldn’t let me out of the car, and she insisted I give her my phone. I waited until she was distracted by the gas pump to open her glove compartment. She had a gun and multiple passports with her picture. It felt wrong so as soon as I had a chance, I bolted.” As she zips up, a car horn bleeps twice, and Slate motions me out.
It only takes a couple seconds for me to assess the random pattern of folks in the street. No cops, no Feds, no thugs. We’re good to go.
Sam draws her weapon. “Ready?”
