Part 7 (1/2)

She had the heater in the old Chevy cranked on high, but still she s.h.i.+vered, unable to shake the horrible feeling that she had abandoned her only son to a pack of hungry wolves. But what could she have done? Call out from the top of the fire ladder? I'm here! Come get me, I'm here! She was free to help Aaron, now, and that was a good thing a at least that's what she kept telling herself.

But she had no clue where to begin. Tom's murder was nothing more than a burglary that had gone horribly wrong. She had no idea that the gunman had intended to kill Aaron.

She glanced at the cell phone lying on the seat next to her and recalled that special moment when Aaron had given it to her. How strong and courageous he had been. How grown up. She questioned her decision to follow his orders not to call the police, and wondered if she would ever see him again.

Suddenly an idea occurred to her that might have seemed obvious under normal circ.u.mstances. She picked up the phone, took a deep breath, and called her son.

Souther was alone in his office when Aaron's cell phone rang. He saw the word MOM displayed on the screen.

”h.e.l.lo, Ashley,” he said, in a cruelly relaxed voice. ”My name is Johnny Souther. I have your son.”

”Oh my G.o.d ...” she thought, a sharp pang of horror sweeping through her. She swerved hard left to avoid sliding off the dark highway.

”Listen carefully,” Souther said.

”Where's Aaron? I want to see my son.”

”Aaron is unharmed.”

Ashley closed her eyes and thanked G.o.d for small miracles.

”I want you to listen for a moment,” Souther said. ”Can you do that?”

Ashley gripped the steering wheel tightly and tried to collect herself. This man had just gunned down her husband in cold blood and he was no doubt planning a similar fate for her and her son.

”Your son's in a safe place,” Souther said, ”and he'll remain safe as long as you do exactly as I say. Do you understand?””

Ashley began to weep. ”Yes,” she said.

”Did you call the police?”

No.”

”Good,” Souther said. ”Let's keep it that way. If you call the cops, your son's dead.”

Ashley took in a quick breath. That was the first time she'd heard those dreaded words spoken out loud.

”Do you have money for a motel?” Souther said.

Ashley paused, then replied, ”Yes.”

”Okay. I want you to get a room and stay there. Do you understand?”

She wanted to ask, Why the room? Why not take me now? but didn't. ”I understand,” she said.

”I have some business to attend to,” Souther said. ”Your son will be safe until I return a unless, of course, someone does something stupid while I'm gone. I'll contact you with further instructions.”

”What do you want from us?” Ashley cried. But the call was dead.

Needles's phone rang, and he picked up.

”I just got a call from Ashley Quinn,” Souther said.

”Oh, really ...” Needles said, surprised, but interested.

”Any leads?”

”Someone saw her out on the old highway,” Needles said. ”We'll have her soon enough.”

”Good,” Souther said, ”but swing by my office first. I want to have a little fun with her.”

Needles hung up and set his phone aside. He wasn't sure what Souther meant by that (and it was a long drive back to the cannery), but having fun with a beautiful woman always sounded good to him a and orders were orders.

”Hold on, Beeks,” he said. Then he reached for the hand brake and to the big man's dismay, pulled a violent E-brake U-turn in the middle of the highway and headed the van back toward the city, leaving a curling wake of white smoke trailing behind them.

Chapter 21.

Sands Motel Emerging from the gloom, beyond the reach of her headlights, Ashley could see a large, brightly lit sign in the shape of a palm tree. As she drew nearer she was able to make out the words SANDS MOTEL, and soon the word VACANCY floated into view. She eased off the gas, crossed over the centerline, and pulled into the narrow driveway a gripping the steering wheel tightly as her Chevy rocked and splashed through pothole craters blown out of the asphalt by the parade of eighteen-wheelers from the motel's glory days.

She had hoped for something a little nicer than a moribund hovel, but this was the first sign of life since the old man's gas station several miles back, and being unfamiliar with the area, she wasn't certain there were any other motels a or that she could afford a better one if she found one. Besides, the lights were on and she was too exhausted to drive.

The motel was a squat, flat-roofed, lagoon-green and tangerine affair with little palm trees cut out of fake window shutters. Ashley guessed that the owners were going for the Florida Keys look, but had failed miserably.

The office sat to the right of a lattice-covered breezeway furnished with a half-dozen plastic lounge chairs and a ping-pong table that sagged pathetically under its own waterlogged weight. Jutting off to the left, a wing of seven small guest rooms, each with its false-louver door flaking a different color of paint from a pastel palette. Ashley parked the car, shut off the engine, and stepped out into the weather.

The rain-charged wind cut through her paper-thin robe and nightgown as though she were naked. She clutched her robe to her throat and hopped quickly toward the glowing OFFICE sign, pausing briefly under the covered porch to look back across the parking lot and down the old highway beyond. Then she opened the door and stepped inside.

The office interior looked like a nineteenth-century seance parlor, and along with the ta.s.seled draperies and woven rugs, Ashley half expected to see a crystal ball, or a flying trumpet, or maybe a rattling tambourine circling the naked light bulb jutting from the dark wooden ceiling. She wrinkled her nose at the strong odor of wet dog and presumed that the source of the smell was curled up behind the tattered royal-blue-velvet curtain hanging behind the counter.

It was quiet in the parlor. Ashley's head throbbed as if someone had grabbed her heart and shoved it up behind her eyes. She banged the push bell and thought she'd been caught in a cathedral belfry at noon bells.

She waited, but no one came. So she pressed her fingers against her temples and called out. ”h.e.l.lo? Is anyone there?”

Nothing.

She braced herself and tried the push bell again.

More pain, but still no response.