The God's Eye View

CHAPTER 39

They drove along dark roads in silence, their surroundings becoming more rural and remote as the night deepened, the headlights of the truck picking up nothing but trees and the odd grain silo and occasional modest houses. Dash was slumped against Evie, asleep. Evie wished she could nod off, too. But she was too terrified by everything that was happening, and everything that had happened before.

When she had awakened in the van, she’d first thought she’d been in some kind of accident and was now in an ambulance. Someone was asking her if her head hurt. But she couldn’t move… had they strapped her to a gurney?

Then she had seen that man — Delgado — and the way he was looking at her, like she was something he was planning to cook and eat. And she remembered Marvin, outside the supermarket, and it all came back to her in a sickening rush.

The man had looked familiar, which somehow had made the whole thing even more disturbing and surreal. And then she’d realized why: the camera footage. The man who had planted the bomb and then disappeared in the cemetery. He’d been wearing a cap and glasses, but that sneer was unforgettable.

She had been sure she was going to die. And then Marvin had shown up, claiming to have the thumb drive, and she hadn’t known what the hell to think. And then… had he shot someone in the parking lot of her building? She thought that was what she’d heard, and there was that story about a deer, but when she’d asked he hadn’t answered. But had someone been waiting for her outside her building? Had Marvin killed someone there?

There was too much happening. She couldn’t keep up. And now that the immediate danger had passed, she felt herself wanting to fall apart. But she couldn’t. She had to stay strong for Dash. She just needed a little time to catch her breath. And more than anything, to think. Think.

Marvin had stopped to switch the truck’s license plates just outside of Clarksville, explaining that he kept a spare pair in the truck toolbox just in case. She was glad he was well outfitted, but it made her uncomfortable, too. She had thought she knew who he was. She had taken him into her home, into her body. And now… she felt confused, and frightened, and violated. And also grateful, because he certainly seemed to know what he was doing in the current situation while she didn’t have a clue. But how much could she really trust him?

Somewhere north of Gettysburg, she was finally beginning to nod off from nervousness and exhaustion — or was it the aftereffects of whatever drug they’d given her? — when she felt the pickup stop. She shook herself awake and looked around, seeing nothing but rolling fields and farmland. Marvin was gesturing to a poorly illuminated sign next to a driveway to their right: Big Sky Motel. Beneath the faded blue and red letters, flickering in pink neon, the word Vacancy.

Independent, he signed. We can use cash.

She stared down the driveway but couldn’t see where it led. How do you know?

The corporate chains have policies. The independents are usually family run. They’re getting harder to find, but they’ll always take a cash deposit.

She decided to file his apparent experience with that sort of thing in the same place she had filed his spare license plates: as something better examined later.

Wait, she signed. Cash is bad. They might be looking for that pattern. Someone registering at a hotel within a certain radius of my apartment tonight. For cash.

They can do that?

I’m getting the feeling I don’t know a fraction of what they can do.

I have some prepaid credit cards. Unused. Untraceable to me. In case of emergency.

She smiled faintly. Well, I guess this is an emergency.

I’ll tell them to not even register us. It’s just going to be a night clerk. For an extra fifty bucks, they’ll give us a room key and forget to enter us into the system. Look at this place. I doubt it’s part of Travelocity or whatever.

You sure?

He nodded and turned right into the driveway. A swimming pool was illuminated by the passing headlights, then disappeared again in the darkness. Then an old swing set, a lopsided picnic table, some chairs. He parked a little way past the office — just beyond where someone inside could see the pickup without getting up, she noted. He wasn’t hiding them, but he wasn’t making it easy for anyone, either.

She rolled down the window and heard only the sound of crickets. No distant traffic, no neighbors, nothing. She leaned her head out and looked up. The sky was studded with stars.

Marvin returned a few minutes later. He pulled the truck door closed behind him and showed her a key on a plastic fob. Thirty-four dollars, he signed. Plus a fifty-dollar security deposit. And another fifty for not entering us into their computer system because I’m paranoid about my office finding out I’m playing hooky. Old guy, well into a bottle of Four Roses. He’s not going to remember us.

She nodded and gave him a small smile. He must have known how upset she was, and was trying to make her feel better. It wasn’t much, but maybe it was something.

Their room was at the far end of the structure, which was shaped like a U around a central parking area. Marvin backed in directly in front of the door. She figured parking nose-out was for a quick getaway, but again decided not to ask.

He cut the engine and looked around. Stay here for a minute.

She glanced at Dash. He was still out cold. Why?

He removed the ashtray, and from behind it withdrew a small leather pouch, which he placed on his lap. I’m going to let us into the room next to ours. I asked the owner to give us a room with unoccupied ones alongside it because my wife is a light sleeper. He said no problem, we’re mostly empty tonight, I’ll give you a room at the end of the complex.

She glanced at the leather pouch. Those are lock picks?

He nodded.

She had to ask. Marvin… who are you?

He stared through the windshield, into the darkness.

Right now, I’m not really sure.