Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Desperately, Nora
“Where the lake meets the shore—oh, shit!” I slam the diary shut and leap up from my chair, because not only do I believe her—I know exactly where to fucking find her.
I just hope I’m not too late.
CHAPTER 7
NORA
“Checkout’s tomorrow at eleven,” Shirleen, the front desk manager of the motel I’ve been camped out in since last night, calls as I tiptoe through the lobby.
Her words stop me in my tracks. “Wh-what?” I ask, gnawing my lower lip as I wait for her reply, all the while hoping like crazy that I misheard her, even though I know I didn’t.
She gives me a pitying look over the rim of her turquoise cat eyeglasses. “You only paid for two nights, hun.”
“Oh, um.” I shuffle my feet as I try to do a mental tally of how much money is left in my sock.
The two nights I paid for here cost me a hundred bucks and some change, and the snacks I bought from the vending machine were another ten dollars, so that only leaves me ninety dollars.
Dread drops like a stone in my belly, and bile burns the back of my throat as I clutch the ice bucket closer to my chest.
That’s not a lot of money at all; certainly not enough to survive on, at least not for long.
I was really hoping Ellis would have found me by now. He investigates crimes, after all. But there’s no guarantee he even read my diary, much less figured out my location.
Even worse, what if he’s in Rand’s pocket too? What if he finds me and takes me right back to him? He was there with the other cops when Mama died, after all…
Maybe I can use the money I have left for a bus ticket out of town—as far as it’ll take me—and then sleep in a shelter or something until I can find work. Maybe I can—
“You okay?” Shirleen asks, leaning forward, like she might get out of her chair and come around the desk. She was hesitant to rent me a room to start with, and with my disheveled appearance combined with the fact that I don’t have a credit card or ID, I can’t say I blame her.
I promised her I wouldn’t be any trouble, and I intend to keep that promise.
“Fine—I’m fine.” I readjust my sunglasses and drop my gaze to the floor, letting my hair form a curtain around my face. The last thing I need is for her to see the black eye and split eyebrow I’m sporting. “S-sorry. I’ll, uh, I’ll be gone before checkout. Thanks.”
She stares at me long and hard, like she can see straight past my lies and into my very soul. For a second, I worry she’s going to call me on my crap, but eventually she settles back down into her seat and sends me off with a soft smile. “Okay then, hun. Sleep tight.”
Her words loop in my brain as I exit the lobby—which is the heart of this tiny motel—and head for my room. Sleep tight. I don’t know the last time I slept well. Most nights, I’m either too scared to truly sleep or I’m plagued with nightmares.
I’d hoped getting away from him would have helped, but I don’t think I’ll be able to actually sleep soundly until I’m far, far away from here—from him.
Even then, I can’t help but feel like I’ll be looking over my shoulder. Randall Wallace is like a dog—a vicious, rabid dog—with a bone. He’s not the kind of man who gives up easily.
It sounds bad, but sometimes I worry the only way I’ll truly feel at ease is to know he’s dead and buried, where he can never hurt anyone else ever again.
I’m halfway to my room when the feeling of being watched causes every hair on my body to stand on end. My muscles tighten as my fight-or-flight kicks in, and my heart beats like a hummingbird’s wings.
The biggest downside to the Lakeshore Motel is the open-air corridors. Anyone could be lurking in the parking lot, watching…waiting.
I suck in a deep breath and force myself to keep a steady pace. Only prey runs, and I will never allow myself to be anyone’s victim again. Not ever.
Once I’m safely inside my room, though, all bets are off. I chuck the ice bucket down onto the dresser, lock the door—chain and all—and then shove the chair against it for good measure.
“You’re safe,” I say to myself, bracing myself against the arms of the chair as I will my hands to quit shaking and my heart to slow its racing. “You’re completely and totally safe.”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The sound of something—someone—pounding on the door sends me into a tailspin, and I dive behind the full-sized bed, my entire body trembling in fear.
“Go away, just go away. Please go away,” I whisper, clutching my knees to my chest as I rock back and forth.