The Rescue(50)

“Still might ditch you.”

“I doubt it,” she said.

“It’s nice that you’re bringing them to the same place. Thank you,” said Decker. “They’re going to be freaked out by this. Probably hating me even more, if that’s possible.”

“I’m sure they don’t hate you.”

“Not my parents, but Riley and my wife’s family?” said Decker, pausing. “My wife’s sister told me she wished I had been killed with everyone else.”

“Sorry,” she said. “Will they get along with your parents? We can find two places.”

“I never told them she said that,” said Decker. “And despite her hating me, she brings Riley to visit them pretty frequently. There’s no bad blood there.”

The van slowed and pulled in behind a seemingly endless line of cars. There was a lot to like about LA, but the traffic erased almost all of it.

He noticed a small blue cooler tucked between the front seats. “What’s in the cooler? Anything good?”

“Diet Coke,” she said.

“Great,” he mumbled.

“Just kidding. It’s all water. I don’t drink those chemical concoctions,” said Katie. “Harlow told me to say that.”

“She’s hilarious,” he muttered.





CHAPTER THIRTY

Decker’s eyes fluttered, opening to see a partially lit neon sign for a motel chain he’d never heard of. A seemingly endless parade of dingy hotel signs and grimy car dealership billboards lined the expansive boulevard. Despite all the cheap light from the signs and sodium-vapor streetlights, the eight-lane street felt dead. Even worse—like the kind of place that sucked the life out of everything and had nothing to show for it. Not liking the view, he shut his eyes. An elbow to his shoulder let him know he wouldn’t get off that easy.

“Rise and shine, Decker,” said Katie, not sounding one bit tired. “Your luxury accommodations await.”

He rubbed his face. “Nobody will find me here. That’s for sure.”

“That’s kind of the point. The room is paid for in cash for a week.”

“Pool?” said Decker.

“Sorry. No pool. This is the kind of place that rents rooms weekly or hourly. Not a lot of vacationers out this way.”

“Where exactly are we?”

“Fremont Street,” she said before easing the minivan into a U-turn.

After the turn, they drove a short distance before she pulled into the barely lit parking lot of the Lucky Sass Motel. Except the L and S were unlit.

“The Ucky Ass?” said Decker.

Finally, a full-blown laugh from Katie.

“Aptly named,” he said.

“Beats prison.”

“I’m not so sure.”

Three cars sat parked in the lot, a newer-looking SUV and two beat-up sedans that didn’t look like they’d start without a mechanic. Katie parked next to the SUV and sent a text; the door to the room directly in front of the SUV opened a few seconds later. A pale-green light spilled into the parking lot, partially blocked by a tall, sharply dressed woman with curly, shoulder-length blonde hair who couldn’t have looked more out of place at this motel if she tried.

“Out we go,” said Katie.

Decker opened the door and stepped onto the crumbly asphalt, which instantly brought to mind the motor-lodge parking lot in Hemet, but worse. Somehow, Katie had managed to find a motel seedier than the one that had been the staging ground for his demise.

Just when he thought it couldn’t be that bad, the faint smell of Pine-Sol mixed with stale cigarettes hit his nostrils, killing the notion. While Katie opened the rear lift gate, he surveyed the motel, his eyes never passing the one-foot-tall weed sprouting through the crack in the cement at the woman’s feet.

“It’s not as bad as it looks. No cockroaches from what I can tell,” said the woman in the doorway. “I’m Sandra. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Decker.”

He met her at the door and shook her hand. “Likewise, but I don’t buy your no-cockroach assessment.”

“I guess you’ll know in the morning,” she said.

“Let’s get this over with,” said Katie. “It’s gonna be a long drive back to LA.”

“You’re not spending the night at the Ucky Ass?” said Decker, looking over his shoulder at Katie.

“Sorry. Duty calls elsewhere,” she said. “Come on. Move.”

Sandra chuckled and withdrew into the dank room. Decker followed, immediately scrunching his nose.

“This smells,” he said.

“They all smell,” said Katie, brushing past him and tossing a black duffel bag on one of the dimpled beds. “Most of them reek. This isn’t half-bad, Sandy baby.”

“Thank you, Katie dear,” said Sandra, giving Katie a quick hug before shutting the door.

Katie unzipped the duffel bag and started unloading its contents on the bed. She started with two sets of clothing to complement his “Gap dad” look and a pair of gray hiking shoes. He’d swap the shoes for his clunky boots the next time he left the room. A few pairs of gray briefs, gray socks, and matching undershirts followed. A small toiletry kit and a set of white towels joined the pile. Very thoughtful.