Thonk, thonk.
Desmond’s face foretold another gripe.
“This was supposed to be in-out, fast, and then barbecue. I was fantasizing ribs. How long’s it going to be now? I’ve got business, you know.” Desmond laundered money through a used car lot he owned. He knew what he was doing. Where else in the world were 1998 Subarus going for $250K?
Moll had projects too. While he enjoyed faux painting, his special services job found him the go-to man for disposing of bodies—ones that either he and Desmond, or other clients, had made.Presently he needed to complete an assignment involving one Edgar Barth, a potential whistleblower, who was cold and stiff and swathed in a tarp, tucked into a cabin in Ralston. The idea was that Edgar would be deposited someplace unfindable on the way to Akron, where Moll would deliver a painted settee. He’d planned on leaving late this afternoon.
But now...
His neck and hands complained and he sprayed Benadryl once more. Better.
Desmond examined the willow branch carefully. He put it down and took out his phone. Moll noted that he was looking at the texts about the job, specifically the pictures of Allison Parker and her daughter.
They had memorized what the females looked like. It made sense to be absolutely sure of your target. When you’re after woodcock you don’t want to take an out-of-season quail by mistake.
Moll noted the glint in Desmond’s eyes as he scanned the whole-body shot of Allison Parker.
The man had this habit...
Moll said, “No.”
Desmond swapped phone for willow branch. He shrugged. “A man can dream, can’t he?”
And began thethonk, thonk, thonkonce more.
26
Allison Parker was looking over the unfortunate beds in unfortunate room 306 of the Sunny Acres motel, whose bold pink vacancy sign had been a beacon in the spooky night and beckoned them in for shelter.
The place was shabby and worn, the window cracked, the frame and gutters in need of paint. The view was the parking lot and a chain-link fence, whose mesh was fitted with slats to block out the view of Buddy’s Salvage.
So, it’s come to this, she thought.
“Here?” Hannah asked.
The girl’s dismay was the exact opposite of her happy reaction to the rental car.
The walls, painted white, needed another coat. Blond, scarred, tired furniture. Industrial dark blue carpet, just the shade to camouflage stains, though it was largely unsuccessful in its mission. A two-socket lamp with one bulb. Two double beds, not even queens. The scent was of musty air and powerhouse cleanser.
“It’ll do for now.”
The girl gave another exaggerated sigh.
“We’re on an adventure.”
This had once brought a smile to the girl’s face—when she was younger and the family was about to embark on a drive to the zoo, a theme park, a camping trip.
Now no such reaction.
Parker didn’t even consider mentioning Greenstone, the mythical castle of their bedtime reading pleasure. How distant were those days...
“ ‘For now’?” Hannah asked, her voice edgy. “How long is that?”
“Not long.”
Now a sigh of a different order.
They finished bringing in their bags.