Page 56 of Shine: Sins of the Father
“Yeah. I think you could use a friend who's been there. I know she’s older than you, and you guys probably aren’t as close as you are with that friend of yours.”
“Janey.”
“Right, Janey.”
“All right. I guess that would be okay, but you have to make her promise not to tell the rest of the girls.”
“Deal. Make sure you lock up behind me.” With that, I walk down the stairs and back to my bike. If Wolf rolled past now and saw me coming from Fiona’s, he’d think the worst. I need to get home to Harley and have a long talk. Maybe she can help me make sense of why Fiona’s being so damn stubborn about this.
Then I’ve got a call to make to Shine.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Shine—
The club rolls into a motel south of Henderson at 11pm. It’s a two-bit fleabag dump with a glitching neon sign flickering ‘vacancy’ in bright green. The place is a one-story long block of rooms.
Daytona, Trick, and I head to the office while the rest hang outside.
The young guy behind the counter is playing on his phone until he looks up and sees us, then gets wide-eyed. He nervously gets to his feet and backs up a step, his eyes on our leather cuts. The place smells of burnt coffee and mold.
Daytona approaches the counter, leaning his hands on it. “Lookin’ for this guy.”
Trick flashes the mug shot he’s pulled up on his phone. “His name’s Donnie Ray Sidler.”
“Had a tip he was in the area. You seen him?” Daytona continues.
The kid leans to get a closer look. “I think he’s here.”
“What room?” Daytona snaps.
The boy’s shaking hands move over the keyboard, and a sweat breaks out on his forehead.
“Sidler. Room 118. He checked in yesterday.”
“When does he check out?”
“He paid for two nights. So, tomorrow.”
“Call and tell him there’s a water leak in the next room and the maintenance guy has to come down to his room.”
The boy reaches for the phone and nervously stares at us. “He… he’s not answering.”
“Give me a keycard.” Daytona holds out his hand.
“I… I can’t do that, sir. It’s against the rules.”
I grab a handful of the kid’s t-shirt and haul him halfway across the counter. “Did you hear what the man said? Do it now. Or would you rather we boot the fucking door?”
He reaches into a drawer and passes us one. “That’s the master.”
I release him, and we exit the office. We troop down the walkway, the rest falling in behind us, and search out room 118.
We pass 110, 112, 114, and Trick holds up his arm when we get to 116. He creeps forward and peers through the crack in the drapes, a slice of flickering light falling across his face, like the light from a television left on in a dark room.
I scan the lot, but don’t see the burgundy sedan. Doesn’t mean he’s not here. He could have switched for a different ride.
Trick slinks back, his voice hushed. “I didn’t see him on the bed, but he could be in the bathroom.”
