“Maybe he comes out again?” I asked hopefully, nodding at the clerk to scan ahead. But the door to Topher’s room stayed resolutely shut until well after Reyes and O’Neal had come and gone down the road at August House the following morning. By the time he emerged, bleary-eyed and bed-headed, it was almost eleven a.m.
“There’s just the one door on those rooms, right?” Holiday asked finally. I could see the wheels in her brain turning as she tried to work out anything she might be missing. “No back entrances?”
“Not unless he climbed out the bathroom window and scaled the building,” the clerk said. “We had a guy do that one time, trying to get away from his ex-wife. She was after him for monetary support for their French bulldog, who had sleep apnea? Fell right into a pile of trash next to the dumpsters and then tried to sue us for his back pain.” He shook his head solemnly. “We live in a very litigious society.”
“His car didn’t move either,” I reminded Holiday quietly, pointing to the Honda. “It definitely looks like he stayed in all night.”
“Yeah,” Holiday said, rubbing a hand over her face. For the first time since I’d met her at the coffee shop the morning after the party, she looked visibly disheartened. “I guess so.”
The clerk peered back and forth between us, confusion written all over his greasy face. “Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?” he asked. “It means your boyfriend was where he says he was.”
“That’s good news,” Holiday agreed quickly, mustering a game, cheerful smile. “It’sgreatnews, even. I really appreciate the help.”
The clerk preened at her attention, clicking out of the security program and opening up his billing software. “What was that,” he asked after a moment, “Room 212? Looks like he ordered some porn.” He looked at us hopefully, clearly wanting to secure his place as a valuable member of the investigative team. “Like, if that’s helpful?”
“What, like on thetelevision?” I asked, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice.
“Looks that way,” the guy said with a twisty grin. “World’s Naughtiest Nurses,Part Six.”
I shook my head. “Who pays to order porn on TV?”
“You’d be surprised, actually,” the clerk replied thoughtfully. “We do a pretty decent business.”
I could tell by the expression on Holiday’s face that she’d had quite enough of this conversation, and sure enough: “Well, thanks again for your help,” she said brightly. “This was really useful.” Then turned back to me. “We should probably—”
I nodded. “Yep.”
The weather had changed while we were inside the motel office: dark clouds beginning to gather at the eastern horizon, the humidity thick as a sodden beach towel pressed firmly against my face. The air around us seemed to snap with electricity as I peeled out of the parking lot, checking over my shoulder one last time for any sign of the Honda. Neither of us said anything, and I could feel my bad mood gathering density the longer we sat there in silence. I felt dopey and young and foolish; most of all, I felt like a person who’d wasted what was probably the nicest vacation he wasgoing to have in quite some time playing cops and robbers with his old pal from nursery school. “So,” I said unnecessarily as we idled at a red light in Vineyard Haven, “it wasn’t Topher either.”
Holiday sighed, leaning her dark head back against the passenger seat. “Doesn’t seem that way,” she agreed.
I took a deep breath. “Look,” I said, “I heard you the other night when you said that I was the one who dragged you into this in the first place. But I kind of feel like at this point we need to face the possibility that Greg really did just get drunk and trip.”
“Maybe,” Holiday agreed, sounding utterly unconvinced.
“Maybe?” I repeated, gritting my teeth to keep from scowling. The light turned green, and I hit the gas harder than I necessarily meant. “You don’t think so?”
“No, I’m not saying he didn’t.” Holiday shrugged like I was a wild-eyed door-to-door salesman with a briefcase full of herbal supplements or a little kid trying to sell her on the Easter Bunny. “It’s just a lot of coincidences, that’s all.”
“I mean, it’salsoa lot of coincidences that every single one of our leads so far has led nowhere, wouldn’t you agree?”
Holiday huffed a little laugh at that, indulgent. “Fair enough,” was all she said.
The two of us were quiet, the afternoon light taking on an eerie purple quality out the windshield as the heavy gray clouds thickened like pudding in the sky. I glanced at Holiday out of the corner of my eye, my own irritation flaring at the sight of her sanguine expression. I was tired of her theories. I was tired of her plans. It had been a mistake to bring her into this in the first place,I thought sullenly; I’d forgotten how tenacious she could be when she wanted something, the way she gnawed at unanswered questions like a dog with a bone.
I was planning to say goodbye for real when I dropped her back at her parents’ house—I was going home to Boston tomorrow, and I didn’t want to burn my last night here trying to solve a mystery that by all accounts wasn’t one—but as we pulled into the driveway, Holiday turned to look at me, curious. “See you later?” she asked.
I cringed a little—I couldn’t help it. I’d forgotten that I’d mentioned Jasper and Eliza’s hurricane party to her a couple of days ago; I knew I was being an asshole, but even as I nodded, I wondered if there was some way for me to subtly convince her not to come. I wanted a fun, normal night, free from thoughts of drug dealers and bloody sweatshirts and people secretly hooking up with other people’s moms. More to the point, I wanted to be with Eliza, and—though I couldn’t articulate to myself exactly why—I knew having Holiday around was going to put a serious kink in that plan. It occurred to me, not for the first time, that maybe there was a reason she and I hadn’t talked all these years.
“Yeah,” I said, mustering what I hoped was a convincing smile, “totally. Eight o’clock?”
Holiday smiled back. “I’ll be there,” she promised.
