Free War at Home: A Smokey Dalton Novel by Kris Nelscott Page A

depends on whether we can get all the meetings we’ve been planning, since the Fourth is coming up.” I let my smile ease into a grin. “I promised the boys camping if we got done early.”
    The manager nodded. “That last summer before college’s an important one. I’ll make a note on your file. We’ll charge fifteen if you’re here for six nights.”
    He slid the register toward me, then grabbed an index card.
    “Pay tonight’s up front, and you won’t owe nothing till you check out. We’ll settle then.”
    “All right.” I took out a twenty and handed it to him as I pulled the register closer. I picked up the pen and then paused. I was tired. I had nearly signed my real name.
    I signed, put down my address and phone number , as well as Malcolm and Jimmy’s first names, and then slid the register back toward the manager. Out of force of habit, I skimmed the other names before releasing the thick book. I didn’t see any I recognized.
    He had me sign the index card , too, after I saw him make the note about the possible lower rate. Then he recorded that I paid $19 for the first night, and reached into a drawer to get me my dollar change.
    “You’ll be in 1171,” he said. “It’s in the back, away from the street and the noise. There’s a good walking trail to the park , and in the summer, the park’s pretty nice. If one of your kids is young, he might like it. It’s got swings and a merry-go-round, some picnic tables.”
    “Thanks,” I said. “And thanks for letting us in so late.”
    He nodded. “You’re lucky I was on tonight. Not many places in town open their doors after ten.”
    “I’ll remember that.”
    “Best you do,” he said. “This ain’t Chicago.”
    So he’d already looked at where I was from. He was more watchful than I had expected.
    “I’ll remember that , too,” I said.
     

 
    NINE
     
    Room 1171 was part of another building, tucked into the back. This building was older than the one up front, and had been built to look like row houses, attached on each side. The building was made of red brick and the doors had been painted a crisp white. Each door had a light above the entrance, a nice touch that made the place feel secure.
    The room itself was the same size as the one in Cleveland, but cleaner and with newer furnishings. It also lacked the musty odor that underlay the cigarettes. This room had a faint smell of fresh paint, and didn’t smell institutional at all.
    “Cripes,” Malcolm said from the bathroom. “They even put a paper banner around the toilet.”
    “Sanitized for your protection,” Jimmy said from his spot on the bed.
    “How’d you know?”
    “Seen it before.”
    And had been as astonished by it the first time as Malcolm now was. I unpacked us, turned the window air conditioner on low, and told the boys to prepare for bed.
    They argued, but not strenuously. The drive had tired them out as well. It had exhausted me. After I closed my eyes, I still saw headlights coming toward me. We had been lucky; we hadn’t run into any small - town traffic cops or anyone trolling for unfamiliar faces.
    I didn’t expect our luck to hold for the entire trip.
     
    * * *
     
    The next morning, after breakfast, I called Grace. I told her where we were staying and asked her for permission to pose as her ex-husband. His name had been all over the application and other documents that Daniel had filed with the university, mostly as a person who wouldn’t contribute to Daniel’s education.
    “Why would you want to do that?” Grace asked.
    “I figure the authorities here will accept me better as a member of Daniel’s family than as an investigator.”
    “Darrel would never check up on Daniel,” Grace said. “I’m not even sure Darrel remembers he has children.”
    “That might work for me then,” I said. “If anyone calls you and asks if you sent your ex-husband here, tell them you did.”
    She agreed. After we exchanged a few pleasantries, I hung up and