Free What's in a Name? by Terry Odell Page B

turned
and stared straight ahead.
    “ Must be the bonk on
the head, or the after-effects of the drugs. Didn’t they used to be
brown? They look gray now.”
    “ And they could be
green next week. Let’s go.”
    He clicked his seat belt shut, leaned
against the window and let the pills take over. When he opened his
eyes, Kelli was standing beside him, the door to the truck open. It
was dark outside and his head felt like it was filled with oatmeal.
He groaned. “Time is it?”
    “ Two a.m. Can you
walk?” she whispered. “I need you to get out of the truck and go to
the door over there. Room nineteen. Put this on.” She handed him a
knit watchman’s cap. “Stay low. I’ll be right in.”
    He looked around. They were parked in
the lot of a Fifties-style motel, in front of the open door of an
end unit in a string of little bungalow rooms. He understood. The
open truck door would block him from any prying eyes in the office.
He tucked his hair under the cap, slid out of the seat, wavering a
moment to get his balance, then made his way to the door in a
half-crouch. Stay low, she’d said. No problem. Standing up—that
would have been a problem.
    The room smelled of must and mold with
an overlay of pine cleanser. That was about all he noticed before
the bed floated up to meet him.
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter Six
     
    Kelli kept an eye on Windsor as he
stumbled toward the door, holding her breath that he wouldn’t
collapse before he got inside. She’d driven until she couldn’t keep
her eyes open and then a little longer until she found a motel that
looked seedy enough so nobody would ask questions.
    The acne-faced desk clerk had given
Kelli’s grime-covered body a skeptical look, but she’d seemed
willing enough to buy the sob story about repairing a flat tire in
the rain. Apparently anxious to get back to her television program,
the clerk had accepted cash, hadn’t pressed for ID, and had given
Kelli the room she’d asked for—the one at the end of the row.
    Kelli grabbed her gym bag and the case
with her computer from the truck and let herself into the room.
Windsor lay on his side on top of one of the two double beds, his
hair fanned out, one arm dangling off the edge of the bed, with the
knit cap on the floor by his fingertips. Motionless. Her heart
skipped and she stepped to his bedside to make sure he was
breathing.
    Once she saw the rise and fall of his
chest, she stood there, trying to understand why she hadn’t cut him
loose. Not because she was attracted to him. That was impossible.
She had questions and he had to have the answers. Nothing more. She
chalked the fluttering in her chest up to exhaustion.
    In the tiny bathroom, she locked the
door and took the longest, hottest shower she dared. Still
exhausted, but clean, she slipped into the other bed and fell
asleep before she had a chance to worry about what had happened, or
what would happen next.
     
    Kelli started awake, disoriented and
with a pounding heart. Faint traces of sunlight drifted through
gaps in the curtains. One glance at Windsor in the other bed
brought back the memories. She looked at her watch. Six. She’d
slept four hours. That would have to do. She should be good for at
least four more hours on the road and maybe get far enough away so
nobody could pick up their trail.
    “ Wake up, Windsor.
Time to hit the road.” She touched his shoulder and when he didn’t
respond, she shook him gently. “You can sleep in the
truck.”
    A grunt answered her.
    She headed for the bathroom. “Five
minutes,” she called over her shoulder. It was more like fifteen,
but it took a while to get a halfway decent haircut using the
first-aid kit scissors. She bundled the cuttings into the plastic
motel laundry bag—she’d toss it somewhere in case anyone came
looking.
    She climbed into her jeans and tugged a
bulky sweater over her head, then called out, “Okay, Windsor. Your
turn.”
    No response. She came out of the
bathroom. He hadn’t moved.