Free Black Night Falling by Rod Reynolds

nervous look in her eyes, as though she’d be in trouble with the man outside if she let me go without disturbing the sheets. I shook my head, almost apologetic. ‘That’s not me, sister.’
     

Chapter Seven
    It was past nine when I arrived back at the Mountain Motor Court that night – fourteen straight hours spent scrapping for information on Robinson, with little to show for it. I stopped at the office to check for a message from Ella Borland. It was too soon, but I did it anyway, got zip.
    Back in my room, I took my suit off and laid it out on a chair, caught a whiff of cigarettes and liquor coming from it – like the lingering stink of a party I hadn’t been invited to. I was weary, but my mind was still running hard. I sat on the floor in front of the uneven piles I’d made of Robinson’s papers, and started to read. The material was as indecipherable as earlier, and frustration set in fast. My thoughts wandered – to Robinson, and what he’d been doing in Hot Springs, and how far I was willing to take his fight when I wasn’t even certain what the cause was. I thought about the woman in the print dress, and how he came to be investigating her murder, and Ella Borland and what she might be able to tell me – if she made contact.
    When all of that fell away, I was left with thoughts of Lizzie. I worried I’d already driven a wedge between us by coming here, and that notion scared me – the damage I might have done to my marriage, and for god only knew what reason. I’d promised to go home if I had nothing inside of forty-eight hours – but that was already out of the question. I worried how she’d react when I blew my own deadline, and I wanted to kick myself for making a promise I knew I couldn’t keep.
    I stared at the papers, the words mashing into one, and a new face came into my head – Maxine’s. I remembered her offer before I’d left, about getting my money’s worth, and the way it had made me pity her. I pictured her in that dingy room, so scared of whoever ran the joint as to be inured to selling her body to any man with enough coin. Hot Springs flaunted itself as a good-time town, a place anyone could get their kicks; that reputation came with a price, and it was exacted on young women like Maxine. From what I’d seen, it wasn’t one worth paying.
    I put the papers aside and went to the bathroom. As I touched the doorknob, I heard a noise outside. A scraping sound on the wall. I stopped still.
    I looked to the back window, saw movement in the crack between the drapes. Sudden, like someone ducking out of sight. I glanced around the room, looking for a weapon – nothing. I darted over and pressed my face to the glass. To the right I saw a dark shape scrambling away through the trees. I felt my skin go drum-tight around my bones.
    I hesitated, shallow breaths fogging on the pane. The shape disappeared from view and the thought of not knowing sparked me to action. I ran to the door and threw it open, then pelted all the way across the parking lot, jagged stones under my bare feet. I reached the street and looked left. There was a pickup parked on the verge two hundred yards away, its lights on. I started sprinting towards it. As I came nearer, I could make out a man on the driver’s side. He glanced back, saw me, and leaned across to throw the passenger door open. When I was thirty yards away, a man stumbled out from the trees behind the motel, running from the direction of the back of my room. He threw himself into the pickup. The driver gunned the engine and the truck took off, slamming the door shut. I kept going, chasing, straining to get the plate, but in a second they were gone.
    I stopped and doubled over, panting with my hands on my knees. My feet were ripped to shreds, the asphalt warm against my bare skin. I was in the middle of the road, everything around me shaking and still at the same time.

Chapter Eight
    No sleep came. Nervous hours spent staring at the shadows on the