“Gladly.” He handed her his computer. “Morales Motel. Let’s hope they have cell access. This information is pretty scanty.”
“There aren’t many places in the world that don’t have cell towers nearby these days. Besides, I have satellite, compliments of Lassiter.” She quickly punched in the number. Three rings and the call was answered by a woman who sounded very young, perhaps even a teenager. A conversation of four minutes and the reservations were made. She hung up and handed Cambry back his computer. “Three rooms, smoking. Evidently, they don’t have nonsmoking rooms at the Morales Motel. I made the reservations under the name Rawlins. Hopefully, no one knows the name I’ve been using. You wouldn’t want Lassiter to show up on any computer banks if hotels or rental-car companies are being monitored.”
“Very efficient,” Lassiter said. “Even to sheltering us beneath one of your false identities. You don’t take any chances.”
“Isn’t that what you’d do?” She met his eyes. “You told me how sophisticated Nicos’s computer guru turned out to be. I’ve found out how easy it is for someone to trace a name when there are zillions of linked computer networks out there that can trigger one another. I hate those network links. That’s why I had to change my name so frequently.”
He nodded slowly. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’d do.”
“And I bet you have a wallet full of phony ID in your pocket right now.”
He smiled. “Only a few quality cards. They come in handy.”
“You know all about computers. When you were hunting me, did you ever find out where I’d gone by tracking me through those links?”
“Only once in the early days. You were very careful most of the time. It was almost all legwork. Very frustrating.”
“Good.” She leaned back in her seat. “By the way, it wouldn’t be Nicos who would set up links with other organizations and hire computer experts to safeguard records. It would be Juan Salva. I guess you know that.”
“I know that he’s smarter than Nicos, but he doesn’t have the power to topple him. I knew when he was taking my bribe to give me information that I couldn’t count on him.”
She nodded. “He’s … terrible. But not like Nicos. He … uses people and he doesn’t—”
Salva smiling as Nicos raised the gun.
Don’t think of it. She’d start to shake again.
She closed her eyes. “I’m going to rest now. Cambry said we had three hours.…”
*
The Morales Motel was at least thirty years old, with peeling yellow paint and a red tile roof. It was a single-story building that wrapped in a U shape. The pretty dark-haired girl at the desk was a teenager, as Margaret had thought, not over sixteen, with the single name Nita on her ID badge. She handed them their keys and pointed casually down the side of the building to indicate their rooms. Then she went back to talking on the phone to someone named Rico.
But once they had reached their rooms, they found them to be moderately clean, and there were soap and towels in the adjoining bathrooms.
“It’s okay,” Cambry said as he came from next door into Margaret’s room. “And okay for a tiny town like this is excellent. I chose well.”
“Yes, you did,” Margaret said as she unzipped her backpack. “I need to take a shower. Should I do it now, or are we going to try out that restaurant that’s across the street first?”
“I vote for the shower. How about trying the restaurant in about an hour?” Cambry headed back toward the door. “But we’re on our own. Lassiter told me he was starting back to work on that computer file. He said to drop off a sandwich and a thermos of coffee when we come back.”
“Okay.” She should have expected it. Lassiter was nothing if not driven. “Then I’ll see you in an hour.”
A few minutes later, she was under the cold spray in the shower. No hot water. But the cold water felt good after the warm, stuffy motel room. Though she would probably have been better off with a hot shower. She didn’t need to be jarred awake before she went to that bed, whose comfort was marginal at best. She’d had only minimal sleep last night and only dozed on the plane.
Sadness.
The emotion hit her with full force.
Hunger.
Death.
Sadness.
Sadness.
Sadness.
Her hands went out to grab hold of the plastic shower curtain as the emotions cascaded over her, drowning her in the pain of loss.
Not loss. Not yet.
Soon.
Where was it coming from? She couldn’t tell; she was only getting jagged wisps of sensation. She couldn’t even tell if it was animal or human.
Sadness.
Loss.
Sadness.
Then it was gone.
She waited for it to come back.
Nothing.
What had happened? That reaching out had been incredibly strong.
But it hadn’t been a reaching out; it had been a cry of desolation. Last night with Lassiter, she had felt terrible pain; this was different. But it had been almost as intense.
She got out of the shower, dried off, and sat down on the bed.
Okay, I’m here. I may not be what you want, but I’m here. Maybe I can help.
Nothing.
Only that poignant sadness that still lingered in Margaret’s mind.
She waited another fifteen minutes.
Nothing.
Maybe that contact had only happened because the feeling had been so intense. Perhaps the origin of that cry was too far to be within normal range.
If you change your mind. I’ll be around for a while.
She couldn’t force a contact. Perhaps the fact that she had heard it had only been a freak of nature.
She got to her feet and started to dress.
But her father had called Margaret a freak, too.
And it wouldn’t hurt to do a little checking.
*
“What are you doing in here?” Cambry had poked his head into the office, where Margaret was standing at the desk, going through the registration book. “I thought something had happened to you and I was going to have to answer to Lassiter again.”
“I was just seeing who is registered in the other motel rooms.” She turned back to Nita, the young receptionist. The girl was looking at her with a wary and bewildered look. “I’m finished now, Nita,” she said in Spanish. “I don’t think there is any trouble. Just a few businessmen. No families.”
The girl was frowning. “I don’t think I should have let you look in the book. My uncle wouldn’t like it.”
“But you have a good heart,” Margaret said gently. “You wouldn’t want anything to happen to a baby. We had to be sure.” She smiled warmly. “And now we are and you don’t have to even tell your uncle.” She reached over and pressed Nita’s hand. “Your Rico is a lucky boy.”
Nita giggled. “He’s not mine. He’s only someone from school.” She reached for her phone again. “I’m glad there’s no trouble.…”