She peered out the window.
“Don’t make this difficult for either of us, Angela. Just get as much money as you can and come right back. It’s past midnight. Nobody is around. If you run, I’ll be forced to come after you, and I won’t be happy. I’m tired. Go get the money.”
He watched her walk toward the ATM. He didn’t like what he was doing, but he had no other choice. In prison he’d only been allowed to spend money from his account. He’d known all along that if he ever escaped, he would have to rely on his mother to get some of his money to him. Until he got to California, he could either borrow money from Angela or rob a bank.
What was taking her so long? More worried about Angela than the cameras, he climbed out of the car and snuck up behind her. “What are you doing?”
She jumped. A piece of paper fell to the ground.
Leaning over, he scooped up the deposit slip he’d seen her writing on. “Help Me!” was scrawled in big, bold letters. He crumpled the paper in his fist. “Withdraw the money now, Angela.”
She did as he said. “I can only get four hundred dollars at a time.”
When she was done, he took hold of her elbow, walked her to the car, and fastened her in just as he had done before.
He returned to the freeway and an hour later, merged onto the Ohio Turnpike to search for a hotel. He took the Sandusky-Norwalk exit and passed up a few places with vacancies until he found a secluded inn farther off the main drag. The place was rundown, the sort of stop for those on a tight budget. Half the letters were missing on their sign. It was well past midnight and there weren’t many cars in the parking lot. It would have to do.
Angela hadn’t said one word since they’d left the bank. But now she looked worried. “What are you doing?”
“I need some shut-eye.”
She gazed out at the building with its chipped paint, and the litter scattered across the parking lot. “I could drive for a while.”
“I don’t think so.” He climbed out of the car, came around to the other side, and cut all her bindings.
She didn’t budge.
“You’re not afraid of a few cockroaches, are you?”
With a huff, she climbed out, grabbed some of her things, including her pillow and blanket, and headed inside.
“One room,” he told the old man at the front desk. “With a view of the parking lot so I can keep an eye on my car.”
The man behind the counter had to be nearing the hundred-year mark. No way was this guy going to recognize him. They headed down the hallway toward the elevators. Their room was on the third floor.
***
Angela watched him inspect the room. He looked out the window and then shut the curtains tight. The place was small and dingy. The carpet was stained. She didn’t want to look in the bathroom, but he told her she had fifteen minutes to clean up, so she grabbed her toiletries along with a clean T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and headed inside.
The porcelain tub had seen better days, but the water pressure was decent and the water was gloriously hot. Unfortunately there were no windows from which to escape. And even if there were, she couldn’t jump three stories without breaking a limb. And where would she go anyhow? Still, if she ever got the chance to run, she needed to take it. She didn’t know this guy from Adam. He could be lying about killing his partner, for all she knew.
As she scrubbed her scalp with shampoo, she couldn’t help thinking about Rob and Christine. Although she never wanted to see either of them again, it had taken seeing the two of them tangled in her sheets to realize she’d stayed with him for all the wrong reasons. Rob had been right about there relationship. They had nothing in common. She and Rob were oil and water, sweet and sour. She wasn’t in love with Rob. Never had been. In the beginning, she’d found him to be a charming man. But the truth was, he talked too much. He gossiped more than any woman she’d ever met. And his bowties were almost as annoying as his wheezy laugh.
Her mom, though, without ever having met Rob, insisted he was the catch of the century—a keeper. Though why she would care what her mom thought about Rob, or any other man, she had no idea. Detouring to visit her mother, who lived in Nebraska, she suddenly realized, might be her best chance to escape.
Once she was dressed, she opened the door, started back into the room, but suddenly stopped, involuntarily wrinkling her nose as her gaze fell to the floor.
Chris happened to be standing at the door, his arms crossed. “What’s the problem?”
“The carpet is gross and I don’t have any socks on.”
Without hesitating, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.
“Put me down.”
He smiled at her as he pulled the tape from his pants pocket.
“No more tape,” she pleaded.