“Get away from there.”
He went to the window himself and peeled back a section of drapery. At first he could see nothing but the shiny chrome of the Oldsmobile’s front grille, and he realized that he had parked it right out front out of habit instead of behind the Dumpsters as he had done the night before. He could see no one outside, and he was just about to turn away from the window when he heard the strong baritone of a man’s voice barking some indecipherable order, followed by the pained mewl of a woman David could not see. The man’s voice had sounded very close—possibly even in the room next door—but the woman had sounded even closer, and less muffled. David pressed his forehead against the glass and craned his neck. A shadow moved along the walkway outside his door. He heard scuffling along the tiny bits of sand and gravel that had collected in the cracks between the stamped pavers. David felt his bowels clench. For a moment, he couldn’t remember where he’d hidden the handgun.
Then he saw the woman. She came ambling into his line of sight, moving in a defeated stagger behind the Oldsmobile and across the parking lot. She wore a plain white T-shirt that fell to midthigh and nothing else, as far as David could determine. Her hair was short, spiky, the color of pennies. She was sobbing. The lower half of her face was a slick and blotchy mess, and something dark had dribbled down the front of her T-shirt. It looked like blood.
The man with the baritone voice barked again, though his words remained indecipherable. This time, David caught a glimpse of him along the walkway, too—a robust fellow with a meaty forearm braided with wiry black hair. A bluish tattoo near his shoulder. Indeed, the man was standing in the doorway of the room right next door. His thick voice reverberated behind the wall of their room.
The woman paused beside the Oldsmobile’s rear bumper and seemed to sway momentarily on her feet. As David watched, she brought up a hand and touched her mouth. When she looked at her fingers, she whined like some injured animal.
David jerked away from the window, letting the drapes swing back in place.
Ellie was standing on the far side of the room, as if determined to get as far away from the commotion outside as humanly possible. Her eyes were wide, staring, terrified. Somehow inquisitive, too. “Is that lady okay?” she asked. Despite the fear in her eyes, her voice was remarkably calm.
“It’s not our business,” David said. “Let’s just get our stuff and get out of here.”
“Right now?”
“Yes. Before the police show up.”
“But I haven’t showered.”
“You’ll have to go without.”
“But I didn’t shower last night, either.”
“We don’t have time for this, Ellie.”
In the bathroom, David took the Glock from the duffel bag and jammed it down the back of his pants. He shouldered the bag, then glanced at himself in the mirror. His hair was still wet, the dye job looking too dark and suspiciously artificial. Yet he wouldn’t risk hanging around here, in the event someone called the cops on the sobbing woman in the parking lot.
He hurried back into the room. Ellie was standing by the front door clutching the suitcase handle in one hand, cradling the shoe box of bird eggs to her chest with the other.
“We go straight to the car,” David said, gripping the doorknob. He already had the car keys in his other hand at the ready. “Go to the driver’s side and then slide over. You understand? I don’t want you separated from me and going around to the other side of the car. Not for a second.”
Ellie nodded, her expressive eyes mostly shaded by the brim of her ball cap.
“Okay,” he said, licking his lips. “Okay. Okay.”
He swung the door wide and charged out into the daylight. Somewhere off to his right, the sobbing woman made a hitching sound, then went instantly silent. David didn’t want to look, but he couldn’t help himself—he stole a quick glance over his shoulder just as the woman was turning to look at him. The back of her T-shirt had ridden up, exposing a single pale buttock. There was an ugly bruise there, mean and purple with a greenish border. Glancing up at her face, David could see the blood spilling from her nose and mouth, black as motor oil. Her eyes possessed the distant gaze of the legally blind.
David yanked the car door open. “Go,” he said to Ellie, shoving her forward with one hand. “Get in.”
Ellie quickly got into the car, the suitcase banging against the door frame, careful not to crush her shoe box.