Page 65 of Whispers and Wildfire

“I should get back to the front desk. Hardly any calls all morning and there were probably twenty since I got up.”

“Yeah, that’s how it goes sometimes.”

“Thanks for the ice pack. And sorry for punching you in the face.”

“Sorry for scaring you.”

She hesitated, her mouth partially open, like she had something else to say. But after a few seconds, she closed it, as if she’d changed her mind. Without another word, she turned and walked away, leaving me with an empty ache in my chest.

On the road

ROSWELL MILLS

Taking a long drag from a cigarette,I peered into the circle of light next to the gas station across the street. One of the girls looked high. There were two of them, dressed mostly in black, showing a lot of skin. Not unusual for summer, but they weren’t clad so scantily because of the weather. They were looking for business.

I didn’t care whether or not they were high. Hookers usually were. But the one on the left could hardly stand. She wouldn’t do. Too sloppy. Loathing made my upper lip curl in a sneer.

What a disgrace.

The other one, though. She had potential. Her hair was blond—wrong color—but that wasn’t important. It was the shape that mattered. Height, weight, body type. She was close enough.

I took another drag and blew out the smoke, flicking the butt to the ground. I straightened my back and crossed the street.

The stumbling one leaned against the building for balance.Her legs wobbled and she sank to the ground, her eyes half closed.

Ignoring her, I approached the other.

She gasped as if startled. “Where did you come from?”

I gestured with a nod. “Across the street.”

“Oh my god, I didn’t see you coming.”

Of course she didn’t. No one ever saw me. I wasn’t worth seeing.

“My apologies if I frightened you.”

The corners of her mouth turned up in a slight smile, and her eyes swept up and down as if she were taking me in. “You have very nice manners. Are you looking for some company tonight?”

I wasn’t stupid enough to believe she saw anything in me she liked—other than cash. “How much?”

She told me her price. It was steeper than I remembered for a whore, but it had been a decade. Even hookers were victims of inflation.

Besides, I had plenty of money. I’d added to my stash before I left Tennessee. My mother didn’t trust banks, and she’d been stupid enough to use her birthday as the code to her safe. I had no idea if she counted it regularly, but I doubted it. I’d left enough and arranged it in such a way that the next time she opened it, she wouldn’t notice anything was gone.

I’d procured other things I was going to need. The sedatives had been harder to score than the cash, but I’d managed to buy a healthy supply. I had new clothes, and I’d bought a car. A cheap one, but it would serve my purposes.

I hesitated before agreeing to her price. I did have the cash, but I didn’t want to seem too eager. “Fine.”

“You have a car?”

I shook my head. “Hotel room.”

“Ooh, fancy. You’re a regular gentleman. What should I call you?”

“John.”

She laughed. “Naturally. All right, John. Lead the way.”

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