I showed him Hunter’s room. There wasn’t much for him to collect: a suitcase of clothes and toiletries, and three suitcases filled with padding for his camera equipment to fit into. The kid carried it all into an unmarked white van.
“Sign here,” he said, handing me the clipboard.
I scrawled my name across the line, but before I gave it back to him, I hesitated. Hunter’s signature was on the line above mine. In real ink, not a photocopy.
“Did Hunter sign this?” I asked.
The kid looked at the signature and nodded. “Mr. Cade sure did. Why?”
“You met with him? Where was he?”
“We met in the lobby of the Marriott over on Parker Street,” he said. “The big one that was renovated last year? It’s real nice on the inside now. They have a new pool, one of thegoodones, with salt water instead of chlorine. My mom’s coming to visit in the fall, and when she does I’m going to have her stay—”
“Thanks,” I said, closing the door in his face and turning back to Lizzy. “He’s at the Marriott.”
Her blood-shot eyes widened. “You have to go to him! Tell him you watched the videos! And I’m coming with you.”
“No offense,” I said, “but this is something I need to do on my own.”
I grabbed my purse, threw on some flip-flops, and ran outside.
“I’ll wait in the car,” she said, following me outside. The courier kid watched us in confusion. “No, scratch that. I’ll drive. That way you can clean up your face on the way.”
I knew better than to argue with her. And I did like the idea of cleaning up before I saw him. If Hunter liked me for who I was, then it wouldn’t have mattered, but it still mattered tomethat I look presentable.
But when we got into my car, the engine wouldn’t start. It made awhirringnoise and then fell silent.
“No,” I groaned while Lizzy cranked the ignition again. “You have got to be kidding me!”
“Quick!” Lizzy said. “Ask the courier for a ride!”
We jumped out of the car and waved at him, but he was already driving away.
“Closest Uber is twenty-nine minutes away,” Lizzy said while staring at her phone.
I tried calling Hunter again. Just like before, it went straight to voicemail. My mind raced. Brad was at work. If I called him I knew he would return home without hesitation, but that would inconvenience him and take just as long as an Uber.
Then an idea came to me.
I pressed the garage door remote inside my car. The door crawled open vertically, revealing the vintage 1968 Mustang.
Lizzy looked at the car, then looked at me. “Do you know how to drive stick?”
“No. Is it hard?” I asked.
She let out a laugh. “I’ve always wanted to drive one of these. Leave it to me.”
44
Erica
Lizzy didn’t just know how to drive a manual. She was quite good at it. But she also drove like she was auditioning for the nextFast and Furiousmovie. The Mustang flew down the street recklessly, engine roaring like a lion that was finally free from its cage.
“Slow down!” I said as she made a left turn without slowing, which threw me into the passenger door. “I’m trying to fix my face!”
“Sorry!” she said with maniacal glee. “This car is bringing out my inner Burt Reynolds! Although I don’t think he ever drove a Mustang in a movie. It was always a Trans Am. Oh my God, should we do a Burt Reynolds movie night the next time we’re both off work? We could watchSmokey and the Bandit,and thenBullitt,and then after that there’sGator.I’ve always wanted to ride in an airboat in the Everglades—”
“Lizzy!” I practically screamed while clinging to the door handle for support. “If you don’t slow down, I’m going to have a heart attack!”