Free The Discarded by Brett Battles

to unload someone and stretch their legs.”
    “Maybe the listing’s out of date,” he suggested. “Could be the place was recently purchased and someone who needed an ambulance to get there is moving in.”
    She picked up her phone. “One way to know for sure.” She pulled up the real estate agencies information and dialed the number. “Yes, good afternoon. How y’all doin’?” she said, affecting a very passable Southern accent. “Thank you. I’m fine, too. The reason I’m calling is because my husband and I are moving to the area soon. We’ve been looking at different houses on the Internet—….Oh, sorry, yes, I’m Mary, Mary Hanson….Good to meet you, Debbie. See, we saw a place online that I believe you are the agent for.” Orlando gave the woman the address of the house the ambulance had visited, then listened for several seconds. “I see….Now that’s interesting….How large are the bedrooms?...Oh, is that right? Well, to be honest, I’m not sure that would work for us, then. Guess we’ll have to keep looking….I’ll check out what else you have to offer. We’ll be sure to stop by your office when we get to town….Yes, yes. Thank you again.” She hung up.
    “I’d like it very much if you’d use that accent from now on,” Quinn said. “Will that be a problem?”
    “Troll,” she scoffed, her voice back to normal. “The house is still for sale, but it’s under a short-term rental.”
    “How short?”
    “A week.”
    “So an ambulance takes someone to a house that until a day ago was empty, and will be again in a few more days,” he said. “Why would they do that?”
    Orlando stared at Quinn’s half-empty bowl of pho before twisting back to her computer and tapping on the keyboard again. He leaned in behind her so he could see what she was doing. She had the website to Azure Waves Hotel on the screen and was using it to work her way into the company’s system.
    “There’s an incident report here,” she said. “One of the guests apparently had a heart attack last night. A guy by the name of Charles Young. Sound familiar?”
    Quinn shook his head. “Sounds generic, if you ask me.”
    Though she didn’t say it, he knew she was thinking the same thing.
    “There was a woman with him when it happened,” she said, still looking at the screen. “Tina Dotson.”
    That didn’t sound quite so generic, but he’d still never heard the name before.
    “According to the report, she’s the one who called for the ambulance,” Orlando went on. “Get this—at eleven twenty p.m. It came from a place called Tobin Ambulance Services, which happens to own the vehicle the transponder number belongs to.”
    “So instead of taking this Mr. Young to a hospital,” Quinn said, “they took a man who’d just had a heart attack to…Mississippi? I don’t think I like where this is going.”
    Orlando frowned, her eyes staring once more out the window. “Neither do I.”

CHAPTER 9
     
    MOSS POINT, MISSISSIPPI
     
    T HE MOMENT ELI heard the doorknob turn he closed his eyes, hoping his captors would leave him alone if they thought he was asleep.
    The slap to his face told him otherwise.
    “Mr. Becker. Your attention, please.”
    He recognized the voice as belonging to the woman who had called herself Tina, though he now doubted that was her real name. She’d followed him off the elevator at the Azure Waves Hotel when he was returning from his errand. She’d acted drunk at first, but once the doors had closed after the other riders got off, she had sobered up in a hurry and shoved a gun into his side, telling him to take her to his room.
    Once inside, he’d felt the sting of a needle, and the next thing he knew, he was here—wherever here was—strapped to a gurney and wearing only his underwear.
    The woman slapped him again. “Mr. Becker, I know you’re not asleep.”
    As he reluctantly opened his eyes, she grabbed his chin and tilted his head up so she could lock her gaze onto his.