Chapter Eight

Pull off at the next exit,” Daniel said after they’d been driving for an hour. Cleo assumed he had to use the restroom, but after she exited, he told her to turn here and turn there until they were in front of a hotel called The Towers. She checked the clock on the dash. 9:00 p.m. “What are we doing?” If they kept going, they could be in Egypt by one o’clock.

“I’m tired, I’m hungry, I’m sticky, and my head hurts like hell.”

A hotel? With Sinclair? Christ, could this get any worse? She knew one thing-she had to ditch him before he found out about the money. He harbored enough hostility toward her to toss her in jail. Under normal conditions, she would have flat-out refused to stay in a hotel with him, but stopping might buy her the time she needed.

She guided the car up the smooth drive and pulled to a stop in front of a set of automatic double doors.

“Go in and get the room.” He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a billfold, and opened it. His badge was there in plain sight as he rummaged in the wallet for cash. “One room. I’m not letting you out of my sight. Then swing through the gift shop and get me a shirt and a toothbrush.”

Yeah, she’d swing through the gift shop and out the back door.

She was sliding from the car when he caught her by the arm. “Oh, and Cleo? Don’t try running out a back door or anything. If you do, I’ll catch you and toss your ass in jail.”

He meant it.

The back door probably hadn’t been a good idea anyway, she thought as she made her way to the reception desk. It wouldn’t have given her much time. No, she needed to get away that night, while he was asleep. That way she could put some distance between them before he woke up and found her gone. Maybe she could even make it to St. Louis. She would leave his car at the airport and be on a plane before he woke up.

She ended up getting a room with two queen beds. As she was signing in she remembered that she hadn’t given Chad the hundred dollars she’d promised him.

Damn.

At the gift shop she picked up two toothbrushes, toothpaste, a small can of deodorant, a disposable razor, and the perfect shirt. Across the front, in black letters, it read: My Kids Went to the Ozarks and All They Got Me Was This Stupid T-shirt.

“Room four-forty-three,” she told Daniel, sliding behind the wheel, dropping the bag of purchases on his lap, and handing him the white plastic card with the magnetic strip.

“The money,” he said, palm up, fingers wiggling.

At first she thought he meant the money. With relief she realized he was talking about his change. She shoved the crumpled bills and coins in his hand then pulled away from the lobby entrance, circling up a parking ramp to finally find an empty spot on level two. Once there, they took a stuffy elevator to the fourth floor, winding through a maze of twisting hallways to their room.

She leaned against the wall and watched as Daniel inserted the plastic card in the slot, got the green light, and opened the door for her to enter.

She inhaled.

The room was so clean. So wonderfully clean. And cool. So blissfully cool.

Maybe this hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

She dropped her bag on the bed. The room smelled like potpourri instead of BO. And the colors-not a speck of orange, or even anything remotely close to orange. It was all deep greens and purples.

She kicked off her sandals and sank her toes into the plush green carpet. Then she pulled two pillows from under the spread, plopped them against the headboard, threw herself on the bed, and picked up the remote control.

She flicked on the TV and began channel surfing.

“Just out of curiosity.” Daniel crossed the room, reached behind her, and, before she could stop him, pulled the elastic band from her hair.

“Oh, my God,” he muttered.

Cleo had been staring deliberately at the TV, but his horrified comment got her attention. He stood over her, his mouth hanging open. As she watched, the surprise on his face slowly bloomed into open-mouthed delight.

“What?” Her hair couldn’t look that bad. He was laughing. The son of a bitch was laughing at her. “Stop it.”

“Look in the mirror,” he gasped. “You gotta see this.”

All she had to do was lift her head a few degrees to see her reflection in the mirror across from the bed. “Oh, my God.” She put a hand to her ragged hair.

The freak in the mirror did the same.

“You son of a bitch. Stop laughing.” She flew off the bed and shoved at him with both hands, pushing at his bare stomach. He dropped the elastic band and grabbed her by the wrists. “Okay, okay,” he said, laughter still thick in his voice. He scooped up the black fabric hair band and handed it to her. She quickly slipped her hair through it, then dropped down on the bed, picked up the remote, and began pushing buttons as fast as she could.

Just you wait, Sinclair. As soon as you fall asleep, I’m going to get out of here. When you wake up in the morning, I’ll be gone, along with the money and your car.

Finished laughing at her, Daniel sat down on the other queen bed, pulled the phone over and balanced it on his thigh, pushed a series of buttons, and waited.

“Hey, Beau. It’s me. I wanted to let you know that I’m not going to be home until tomorrow. I’m staying at a hotel tonight. Grab a pen and I’ll give you the number.” He paused and waited, then gave Beau the hotel and room number. “What? No, I don’t know… Yeah, there’s a pool… No, I won’t be swimming. I know it sounds like fun, but I’m working.”

Cleo rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, maybe next time. Remember, Disney World next spring, bud. I’ve already got the reservations… Yeah… Okay. See you tomorrow. Bye.”

He hung up and turned to Cleo. “What about pizza? Sound okay to you?”

“Fine.” She resented the fact that he was suddenly acting as if holding her against her will was perfectly normal.

“How about a movie?” he asked. “Wanna watch a movie?”

She shrugged. From the corner of her eye, she saw he had a movie guide in his hand. “No.” Was this how he made his move? Pizza and a movie? A little white bread, if you asked her.

“How about this one?” He held up the movie menu. “I heard it’s supposed to be good.”

“Who says?”

“I don’t know. Some reviewer.”

“You can’t trust reviewers.” She tossed the remote control on the bed. “Do whatever you want. I’m going to take a bath.”

She took her bag with her-just in case he got any ideas about digging through it. In the bathroom, she stood in front of the mirror and pulled her hair free of the elastic band.

It looked hideous because it had been smashed under the cap earlier. She tugged at the chopped ends, then dug her fingers into her scalp, trying to fluff it up. All her life people had commented on her beautiful hair, and now it was gone. It didn’t matter, she tried to tell herself.

It’s just hair.

But it did matter. It mattered a lot.

The hair she’d cut away and left lying on the floor of the bathroom in Egypt was hair Jordan had touched, hair Jordan had loved.

The room came with packets of soap, shampoo, and bubble bath. Cleo filled the tub and sank into the bubbles. She soaked for a long time, until her toes and fingers wrinkled, until Daniel banged on the door and asked if she was ever coming out.

“No!” Maybe she’d just stay there forever. Maybe she’d keep the door locked and never come out.

She washed her hair twice, sliding down in the tub to rinse.

Daniel rapped on the door again. “Pizza’s here,” he shouted.

Why did people think pizza was the answer to everything?

She stepped from the tub, dried off, then wrapped a towel around her head. Rather than revisit the clothes she’d worn all day, she slipped into one of the fluffy white robes that came with the room, tying the belt at her waist.