Hadley & Grace(36)

She couldn’t sleep, worry and guilt plaguing her thoughts. She’s concerned about herself and Mattie, but mostly it’s Grace that had her tossing and turning and unable to close her eyes. Finally, she gave up and came out here to sneak a smoke.

Who helps someone they barely know? Risks her future for no reason other than out of the goodness of her heart? Hadley thinks of all the people she knows, wondering who else would do that, and the only person she comes up with is her friend Melissa. Melissa is good like that, but she’s the only one.

Knowing Grace has no one makes her feel that much worse for the danger she’s put her in. She is all Miles has, and none of this has anything to do with them. Hadley never should have asked for her help.

She blows out an angry stream of smoke. Hell, she shouldn’t have taken the money in the first place. This is what she gets for trying to take control of her life: a great big kick in the teeth.

Tomorrow she’s going to straighten things out. Grace and Miles need to take the van and go, get as far as possible from Hadley and whatever or whoever is chasing her. Hadley will figure her own way out of this mess, or maybe she won’t. Either way, she’s not going to put Grace in any more danger. Enough is enough. This whole thing has gotten way out of control.

She wonders if she should turn herself in, throw herself on the mercy of the FBI, and if there’s a chance they’ll put her and Mattie in witness protection if she testifies against Frank. The problem is she doesn’t know anything. She didn’t even know the money they took was dirty or, truthfully, what that even means. Each time she thinks of the words dirty money, it makes her want to take out a scrub brush and go to work washing off the bundles of cash.

She grinds her cigarette into the dirt with her crutch, then lifts her face and sees a car approaching from the direction of the Denny’s. She’s been out here an hour, and it’s the first car she’s seen.

She glances at her watch: 4:26. The car drives slowly, its tires barely moving, and she thinks it must be a weary traveler looking for a place to stay. But then, a few hundred yards from the driveway, the headlights go out, and she watches as the car glides silently to a stop in front of the motel’s office. Hadley’s skin prickles as a man steps from the driver’s seat. He is dressed in slacks and a sport coat, his tie loose at the neck, and he doesn’t look weary in the least. Medium height and broad like a bull, he walks boldly through the door, like a man used to being in charge and who is on a mission.

Through the glowing window, she watches as he rings the bell on the desk. A second later, the kid who manages the motel walks from the back, rubbing his eyes. The man pulls something from his front pants pocket and holds it out for the kid to inspect, and the kid’s shoulders sag as he nods.

Hadley glances sideways at the door to her room, then beyond it to Grace’s. There’s no way to get to either without being noticed.

Heart pounding, she looks down at the backpack at her feet.

The man returns to his car and pulls it beside the pool so he’s in the shadows but directly in front of their rooms. Then he rolls down his window, reclines his seat, and stares. Waiting.





28





GRACE


Grace slept like a rock. Despite her stress, her exhaustion was so complete her eyes closed before her head hit the pillow. Miles woke once for a bottle, then, mercifully, went back to sleep, and so did she.

She rubs the sleep from her eyes and considers again leaving a note for Mrs. Torelli and again decides against it. There really isn’t anything to say, and she doesn’t need to leave behind any more evidence that might incriminate her. The FBI is after Mrs. Torelli, not her, and hopefully, it stays that way.

She glances at the clock and is surprised to see it says 4:32. She set the alarm for 5:00. A second later, she realizes the ringing that woke her isn’t coming from the clock but rather from the phone beside it. She snatches the receiver.

“Grace?”

“Hunter?”

“An FBI dude showed up a few minutes ago,” he hisses. “He’s out front, in his car. He’s alone, but I think he’s waiting for others.”

Instant panic freezes her, like she’s fallen through the ice and is suddenly drowning in frigid water. She looks at Miles on the bed, his arms flung over his head, and her regret chokes her.

“Thanks,” she manages before hanging up, knowing the risk Hunter took in calling.

She creeps to the window, careful to stay out of view, and peeks through the slit in the curtains, blinking once before charging for the door.

“Mrs. Torelli, what are you doing?” she says, stopping short of the parking lot, her hands raised as if the gun Mrs. Torelli is holding is aimed at her. Which it’s not. The gun is pointed through the driver’s side window of a small black car, a car she assumes has a federal agent in it.

“Grace, go!” Hadley screams, the gun wobbling dangerously with her frantic words. “You and Miles. Go. You need to get out of here.”

“Okay, Mrs. Torelli. It’s okay.”

“It’s not!” Mrs. Torelli screeches. “None of this is okay. You shouldn’t be here. None of this has anything to do with you. You have to go.”

Mrs. Torelli is twenty feet away, but Grace can see the tears and mucus running down her face, drips of wetness streaking her cheeks.