Book of Night(92)

“You should call the police,” Mom said. “Have them escort you home and arrest Adam. He assaulted you!”

Charlie didn’t plan on doing that, but she wasn’t above suggesting to Doreen that she would. Adam wouldn’t want them nosing around, what with his illegal dealings. Maybe it would get him to back off.

Once ushered into the motel room, Charlie let her mother steer her to the couch, while Posey found a perch on a barstool beside the kitchenette counter where she could plug in both her phone and her laptop. The place was essentially three rooms—a bedroom with a door, a bathroom that you had to go through the bedroom to get to, a kitchenette, a little bar-height table with two chairs, and a couch in front of a television. Cable came included in the week-to-week price, no extra charge.

Mom and Bob had brought in some furniture from previous residences. Two lamps Charlie remembered from her childhood, an unfamiliar but obviously not hotel-originated rug, some bookshelves, and stacks of Bob’s cardboard boxes of individually plastic-sleeved Magic: The Gathering cards, of which he had a lot.

He claimed that they were valuable enough that when he was ready, he was going to sell the whole collection and buy a house, but he couldn’t until he finished his legal battle with his old employer. Mission Trucking was the unambiguous cause of his back problems and had been court-ordered to pay for his insurance. They wanted to settle so they could wriggle free from their obligation, but Bob wasn’t taking less than a million.

He kept promising her mom that once he got it, they’d live in style.

It was his version of the big score. And about as likely.

“We need to put something on your eye,” Mom said. “Oh, honey, that doesn’t look good now, but it’s going to look even worse tomorrow.”

“I’ll get her some ice,” Bob said. “You get in a few good hits?”

Charlie laughed. “You bet.”

“Hope you kicked him where it counts.” He brought her a package of frozen peas, and she pressed them to her eye. Bob had a balding head and a paunch and wore a t-shirt proclaiming his love for the Ramones.

Having plugged in all her devices, Posey hopped down off the stool to get the cat some water in a plastic takeout soup container.

“So you two are going to spend the night,” their mother said. “I insist.”

With only days until Salt’s party, Charlie didn’t have time for a black eye or being stuck at her mother’s place. And yet the pain in her face was yielding to exhaustion. Besides, there was something she’d come here to find.

“You want me to get the blow-up mattress out of the station wagon?” Charlie asked.

Her mother shook her head. “No, you stay put. Your sister can go. Or Bob.”

Charlie got up, glad to have an easy excuse for her search. “I got it.”

A constellation of magnets covered the refrigerator. A few were from local businesses, and others were emblazoned with sayings like “All I Need Is Coffee and Wine” or “So Punk Rock I’m Out of Safety Pins.” Charlie grabbed the car key from where it was suspended and headed back out into the cold.

At almost sixty, Charlie’s mother had collected more stuff than was going to fit comfortably into the hotel, especially given Bob’s cards, which required a “climate-controlled environment” and were too important to him not to be kept nearby. And so, the back of Mom’s wagon was full of her clothes for the off-season, decorations, taxes, and, apparently, an air mattress. The bins were crammed in tight. One of them was marked “CHRISTMAS,” another “FAMILY PHOTOS.” Charlie found the stale-smelling plastic mattress under a tub marked “VITAL DOCUMENTS.”

That was what she’d come for.

After she’d escaped from Salt’s house, the guy who’d found her had called an ambulance. She didn’t remember much after that, but they must have done a tox screen at the hospital. The results ought to be with the rest of her medical paperwork.

Charlie pulled the lid off the bin. And there, under birth certificates and her mother’s divorce proceedings, she found a folder with her name on it. Inside was a copy of the police report, hospital release, and the bill sent to the insurance. She skimmed over the details. Scratches on arms and face consistent with branches. Mild dehydration. One stood out: traces of ketamine in system.

She closed the folder, Liam’s words echoing in her head: One of the doctors that works here is known for being generous with prescriptions. I saw Remy’s cousin Adeline buy some ketamine off him.

It seemed that stealing a quickened shadow hadn’t slowed down Salt’s experiments, and that he’d gotten the rest of the family involved.

“Did you find it?” her mother called across the lot.

Charlie stuffed the folder under her shirt so her jeans held it in place. “Yeah, Mom,” she called back, and dragged the mattress inside.

Her mother had made feverfew tea, which she said was good for pain. Bob slipped her some ibuprofen, which worked much better.

Charlie went back to the couch and the frozen peas. After a few moments, when she was pretty sure no one was looking, she eased the folder out from under her shirt and into the seam on the side of the couch, where the cushion would cover it.

Lucipurrr patrolled the new space, meowing as Mom took out some chopped meat and started making something for dinner. Bob put on that show where people bring in old stuff and experts tell them whether the item is worth money.