Free Sammy Keyes and the Showdown in Sin City by Wendelin Van Draanen Page A

ads but—”
    He shakes his head like, No-no-no, then says, “I got this. What’s your cell number?”
    “I don’t have one.”
    “What?”
    I shrug. “Yeah, I know. Stupid.”
    “Well, how am I supposed to reach you?”
    “Can I call you?”
    “Sure.” He frowns. “But not every ten minutes! And what if we have a sighting?”
    “A sighting?”
    “Of your mother!”
    “Oh.”
    He shakes his head. “This is no good. I need a number.”
    “I’m at the MGM. In room fourteen eighty.”
    He raises an eyebrow. “So you’re gonna be hangin’ around a hotel room waitin’ on a call? I think I know you better’n that.”
    “Well … can I get back to you with a number? I’ll figure something out.”
    “Sure, sure, no problem,” he says, stepping away. “I’ll do what I can, but right now I’ve got to get back to work if I’m gonna make rent.” He gives me one last eyebrow lift as he goes back to full-on Elvis. “Take good care and be safe, little mama.”
    “Thanks,” I call, then head up the Strip.
    It was after midnight when I got back to the hotel room, and the minute I came through the door, Marissa pounced. “Where have you been?”
    “Getting food!” I said, showing her what was left of the pizza slice that I’d bought on the way back. “Didn’t you get my note?”
    She eyes me suspiciously. “I’m not your grandmother, you know. Why’d you take all your stuff?” Then her eyes pop. “Don’t tell me you rode your skateboard around the hotel!”
    I grin at her and say, “Much quicker than walking,” but now I’m closer and can tell she’s been crying. So I put down my stuff and ask, “Was it awful?”
    She nods and flops into one of the cushy chairs. “A nightmare. We only got back ten minutes ago.”
    I can hear the shower start up in the bathroom, but I still drop my voice because if I know Mrs. McKenze, she does not want Marissa talking about it. “You couldn’t get him out?”
    She sits up a little. “The jail is
huge
. They kept sending us around to different places, and we had to go through tons of security and lock up our stuff ’cause you’re not allowed to bring in a cell phone or food or water or
anything
. And we couldn’t just go in and see him. First we had to register, then we had to schedule a ‘visit,’ then we paid his bail and waited around for the ‘visit’—”
    “Why are you saying it like that?”
    “I thought a visit would be like in the movies. You know, where the sheriff takes you back and you can talk to people through metal bars? But it wasn’t anything like that. We went into this big room with a bunch of open booths where we finally got to do a virtual visit.”
    “You mean like on a computer?”
    “Yes! He could see us and we could see him—Sammy, he looked
terrible
.”
    “Could you talk to him, or did you have to type, or what?”
    “No, you talk over a phone while you look at a computer screen. But everyone can hear what you’re saying! And Mom and Dad got in a big fight over the fact that Mom brought me and … and”—her face crinkles up—“it was awful!”
    I shake my head. “Maybe your mom didn’t know what she was getting you into?”
    “She didn’t. She said if she had known, she would never have brought me.”
    “So … now what? When does he get out?”
    “Sometime after ten tomorrow morning.” She sits up a little and says, “Sammy, once he’s out, we’re leaving. And Mom says there’s no way she’s letting you stay here alone.”
    “Like in this room? Or in Las Vegas.”
    “Either.” She gives me a pinchy little look. “I take it you didn’t get anywhere?”
    “Actually, I might have a lead,” I tell her, racking my brains about what in the world I’m going to do.
    Her eyebrows go flying. “Really?”
    “Yeah,” I laugh. “Elvis is helping out.”
    “Wait, Elvis is? You mean the Elvis who used to work at Maynard’s? You actually
found
him?”
    “Mm-hmm. And guess what? He’s got