16

Faith Ann had pedaled from the drugstore to an isolated gazebo in Audubon Park. Sitting on a concrete table, she went over the torn-out pages, calling the guesthouses she thought might be on a street near the vast city park.

After making thirteen calls without finding the Trammels registered, she read through the list again and one name struck her. The guesthouse was on St. Charles. She called it and asked the clerk if the Trammels were registered there. To her excitement, they were. She asked for the location and it was less than a mile away, so she pocketed the phone, jumped on her bike, and took off.

Within sight of the Park View, she barely missed getting hit by a dark SUV as she left the sidewalk to cross St. Charles. She swallowed the surge of fear the near-collision gave her. Dropping the bike in the grass, she ran inside.

Faith Ann's legs and feet were soaked from the rain, and inside the poncho she was perspiring. A skinny young clerk was on the phone and Faith Ann waited, feeling like she would scream. He finally completed the call and looked down at her. “Yes?”

“I just called to see if the Trammels were here.”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me what room they're in?”

“They're staying here, but you just missed them. Do you want to leave a message?”

Faith Ann felt her heart drop into her shoes and her lip quiver as she fought back tears. “No I guess not… Do you know where they went? How long they'll be?”

“I heard them say they were eating at Dot's Steakhouse. It's on-”

Faith Ann knew where it was, and she didn't wait for the address before running back down the hall and out the door.

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