I frown. “We weren’t both at my cabin. We were both on the lake there. It turns out she owns a cabin up there, too. My sister failed to mention that to me.”
He grins. “And Savvy happened to run into you the one day you went up there?”
I did find it odd that she happened to be out on the lake that early, too. “Maybe she asked Maria if I was going up there.”
“You mean she was looking for you?”
I shrug. “Knowing my sister, Savvy probably told hershe was concerned about the showing she had scheduled, and my sister offered my services. She’s done that for other female friends of hers.”
Durango chokes on the water he’s drinking and begins coughing. Finally, after nearly a minute, he shakes his head. “Your sister offers your services to her friends? What in the hell?”
I laugh as I realize how that sounded. “No, notthoseservices. I meant me protecting them. She’s asked me to walk friends to their cars before. Things like that. She’d kill me before she’d let me sleep with any of her friends.”
He laughs. “Okay, that sounds more like your sister.”
Both our phones vibrate at the same time.
“It’s the address,” I say.
“Huh. It’s nowhere near the building she pointed out on the map,” he says.
“Yeah, that’s odd.”
My phone vibrates again. Stevens wants an address for Savvy. I let her know I haven’t talked to her yet.
“Guess we’d better get our stuff. Sleeping on the floor of a warehouse sounds fun,” Durango says.
I laugh as we both head out. “At least it isn’t below freezing, and no one will be shooting at us.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t speak too soon. Hey, I’ll swing by, and we can walk to the subway. I’ll see you in an hour. Sound good?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
My mind goes back to Savvy. It’s best she’s out of state. Hopefully, she’s in a place she can’t be found.
CHAPTER 7
Savvy
The laugh track on the television snaps my attention away from the window that I’ve spent the last twenty minutes staring out of. I’m staying in some motel off the highway, and I’ve kept the television tuned to sitcoms, trying to distract myself from staring out this window all day. It hasn’t worked.
The odds Bob will find me here are slim. I randomly picked the motel as I drove by. I paid cash and gave a fake name. Apparently, it goes against policy not to give a credit card, but I was able to convince the guy at the desk to make an exception for an extra hundred dollars.
Unfortunately, by selecting a place off the highway, it’s made me paranoid. I keep waiting to see Bob’s car pull in. Of course it hasn’t.
I stare at my phone. I turned it off after I finally replied to Maria’s text telling her I’m out of state. Technically, I am, just not very far. I’d love to call and talk to her aboutall of this, but I’m afraid Bob might track me through my phone, which is probably ridiculous. He’s not the CIA. But then again, he’s not who I thought he was, either. If someone had asked me last week, I would have told him or her that Bob was a single man who was good with money and friendly.
I’ve never seen him with a date, but he seems to be friends with everyone. But as I’ve mulled it over, I realize he isn’t close to anyone. Perhaps being a realtor is a cover for whatever he’s really doing. No, that’s ridiculous. He used to spend all his time working on his business. He didn’t have time for anything else.
I flop onto the bed. Bob is not looking for me. He has no idea I was at his warehouse that day. Once I overheard what I did, I left. He has no reason to believe I was there. I made sure Maggie believed I went to see Maria instead. My bases are covered. I’m sure Clinton was the target of that explosion.
Obviously, I don’t feel certain since I’m hiding. I spend the rest of the evening searching on my laptop to see if there was any more information about the explosion. When I find nothing, I move on to see if the tip I sent to the FBI has led to any arrests. Sadly, the Wi-Fi at this hotel is not great, and the search is slow going as a result. But so far, I’ve found nothing.
For all I know, my tip could be in a large pile that never even gets looked at. I should have called a hotline instead. Does the FBI have a hotline? I could call the police anonymously. How would I do that, though? A pay phone. Are there any pay phones anywhere anymore?
Finally, I give up and go to bed. But the next morning, I wake with all the same worries and concerns.
My stomach growls. I drive to the grocery store a few blocks away and buy myself a large submarine sandwich and a few bottles of water. Fortunately, there is a fridge in my room, so I can make this into a couple of meals. I also grab a deck of cards. I pay cash for everything. My mom had always told me to have cash on hand for emergencies. That’s a piece of advice I’m very grateful for right now.
