The woman gave Jo a curious look as she stepped away and walked through the lobby to a back exit.
She looked around and didn’t see the SUV or the agent who had driven her to the hotel. From there, she walked down South Ervay Street, still watching for surveillance. No one followed her. She went to Main Street and hurried to the Hotel Indigo. Dack had texted her hours ago, letting her know he’d paid for a room. Kelsey—or anyone else—wouldn’t be able to find her there. He’d also left her a new vehicle. It was time to leave the Ford Escape behind. She’d had it long enough, and she needed a new vehicle, one that couldn’t be traced back to her.
Jo took an elevator up to her room and found a keycard in the dirt of a planter. Dack had people in Dallas, and he’d arranged for someone to leave it for her. She held up the card and silently thanked Dack. His friendship and help meant the world to her. She walked quietly toward her room, still cautious. She let herself inside and checked everything, but the room was safe. She knew it would be, but old habits die hard.
For a moment, Jo stood in the middle of the room, relishing the silence. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and video-called Dack. He peered at her, assessing her condition, and then he smiled and began typing.
“You’re okay?”
She nodded. “Physically, anyway. Dad and Avery?”
He smiled. “They’re fine. Don’t worry about them.”
He didn’t have to tell her anything else. Those words said it all—that at least for the moment, Dale didn’t know about them. She breathed a sigh of relief.
Dack remained quiet for a few seconds, and then said, “It’ll take some time to process everything.”
She glanced around the room. “Thanks for your help.”
“Anything for you.”
She briefly told him all that had happened since they’d last talked, and he nodded thoughtfully. When she finished, he began typing again.
“I got a place for you in Shreveport. A small hotel, out of the way. Get some rest and then head there. Once you get settled, I’ll arrange a call with Will and Avery.”
Jo smiled. “I’d love that.”
He put a hand to the screen. “We’ll talk soon.”
Dack wasn’t mincing words—clearly, he could tell that she was tired. And she was.
Jo thanked him and ended the call. She sat for a moment to catch her breath. Then she would shower, sleep for a while, and in the morning, put some distance between herself and this big city.
She didn’t know where she’d go next, or what she’d do, but talking to Will and Avery—that, she could look forward to.
THE END
***
Sarah will return to solve another mystery soon!
Have you started the Sarah Spillman police procedural series yet?
Turn the page to read the first two chapters of Deadly Connections, the first book in my new female P.I. series.
DEADLY CONNECTIONS: A SARAH SPILLMAN POLICE PROCEDURAL
PROLOGUE
The footsteps stopped in the hall, and the boy heard the muffled voice from the other side of the door.
“Turn out the light.”
The boy slid off the futon, legs trembling. He crossed the small basement room and hit the light switch. His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness as he darted back across the room. He didn’t have to worry about running into anything. The only furniture was the futon; the only other thing in the room was a portable camping toilet in the corner.
He heard a rattling sound, and the door swung open. A rectangle of light fell on the concrete floor and a hooded figure stood in the doorway. The boy could only see dark clothes, a ghostly shadow of a face.
Death.
At least, that’s how the nine-year-old’s brain thought of it. “Death,” the skeletal, hooded figure that he’d seen in comics his dad collected. Although the boy thought some of the comics were stupid, he liked Batman, Spiderman, and Superman. However, the comic-book character Death always scared him. So did the figure standing across the room.
He scooted farther back on the futon until his back hit the concrete wall. He bent his legs and wrapped his arms around his knees, trying to pull away.
“Are you hungry?”
He nodded. His stomach growled. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been in this room, a few days, maybe. He was sure he was in a basement room because of the concrete walls and the lone little window high up on one wall, with black paint covering the panes. The room was dank and the foul odor from the portable toilet in the corner was gross.
The figure took a couple of steps into the room, then stopped and just watched him. It was the same every time. The boy sucked in a breath and shivered. It was pointless to scream or yell. He’d done that when he’d first awoken in the dark room and felt his way to the door. All the yelling, all the yanking on the door handle, and nothing had happened. No one came.
Where was Mom? Where was Dad? His lip quivered and he wanted to cry. But he’d been told not to cry. He’d been told a lot of things: to stay on the bed, not to yell, and to be a good boy. He was afraid, terrified to do anything. He didn’t understand, but maybe if he obeyed, he’d get to go home.
Again, a whispered “Are you hungry?”
He nodded.
Same question each time. Then he’d get food, then he’d be told that everything would be okay, he just needed to stay quiet. After that, he’d be left alone again. And the door would be locked.
This had gone on for a few days, or so he thought. Food was just a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and water. He was hungry. He was told that if he was good, he’d get more. Each time, he had to turn out the lights and sit on the futon.
