Her Scream in the Silence (Carly Moore #2) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,113
he reached me.
“We’re in this together, Marco. That was our bargain. I didn’t insist on getting out when you told me to stay in the car with you.”
He gave me a grim look, but he didn’t try to talk me out of coming. I walked next to him as he hobbled over to the motel room. The number 134 was nailed on slightly askew in the middle of the wooden door.
“Wait over there,” he whispered, gesturing to the side of the door opposite the doorknob. Once I was in position, he knocked and then reached into his jacket and withdrew his gun.
My heart beat double time.
When no one answered, he shot me a glance, so I knocked on the door.
No answer.
“You ever picked a lock?” Marco asked.
“Do I look like the kind of person who picks locks?” I asked in disbelief.
He grinned. “Kind of.”
I rolled my eyes, but our exchange had helped settle my nerves.
He slipped his gun back into his holster and retrieved two long metal tools from his jacket pocket. Balancing on one foot, he handed me his crutch, then glanced around to make sure no one was watching. He leaned over and inserted the tools into the keyhole, and I realized we were lucky Bart Drummond had been too cheap to upgrade to an electronic locking system. Seconds later, Marco turned the knob and pushed the door open a crack, staying to the side of the door. He quickly slipped the tools back into his pocket.
Pushing the door open with the tip of his crutch, he called out, “Hello?”
My heart was in my throat as he pushed the door open wider. He stayed in the doorway, taking in the sight of the room, and I leaned around him so I could get a look.
The room had two full-size beds and the typical décor of an old motel room, complete with the stained carpet and the framed nature prints. But no people. No sign of anything unusual.
Marco walked into the room and I followed.
“I don’t get it,” I said, looking around. Even the beds were made. “What did he do when he was in here? We haven’t been gone long enough for someone to come in and clean the place up.”
“There’s a pair of gloves in my jacket pocket,” he said. “Put them on and start opening drawers.”
We checked every drawer, the closet, and even under the beds, but he’d left nothing behind.
“Look there,” Marco said, pointing his crutch toward the bed. “There’s an indentation.”
I moved closer and noticed a dent in the bedspread. “It looks like he sat down here.”
Marco stared at the spot on the bed, just beneath the pillow, then shifted his attention to the nightstand. “I think he was makin’ a phone call.”
“Why would he come here to make a phone call?”
“I don’t know,” he said as he leaned over to examine the phone. “But cell service sucks in this area, so maybe he uses it as a burner phone. He can make calls and receive messages without fear they’ll be traced back to him.”
“That’s crazy,” I said. “Who would do that?”
“Got a better explanation?” he asked.
“No.”
We were silent for a moment.
“Let’s go try to rent this room,” Marco said.
“What?”
He grinned. “Trust me.”
The office was on the other side of the parking lot, a long walk for Marco, so we drove over in the SUV and parked closer. As we headed in, he said, “Oh, by the way, we’re deeply in love.”
“What?”
He opened the door and said, “Look, honey! The office looks exactly like it did when we were here on our honeymoon.”
I glanced around the small space. If he’d claimed the wedding had been thirty years ago, I suspect he would have been challenged about our age, not about the unchanging décor.
“Sweetie, you’re so right,” I gushed.
“I told you this would be perfect. Exactly like it was five years ago.”
The woman at the front desk watched us with interest. “Can I help you?”
“I sure hope so,” Marco said with a cheesy grin as he hopped toward her. “Jessica and I were here on our honeymoon. We’re celebrating our fifth anniversary, so I told her I wanted to come back and relive the magic.”
“Oh, isn’t that sweet,” she said, beaming. I could tell she was a fan of romance. “And with you on crutches too!”
Marco leaned against the counter. “The thing is”—he glanced down at her name tag and lowered his voice—“Sarah, Jessica and I are goin’ through a rough patch and we’re tryin’