They both love The Bachelor.
An audible breath blows into Casey’s ear over the phone line.
“This has all gotten out of hand.”
She makes no reply. She catches Haley’s glance and rolls her eyes at the client’s whining. She waits as he wrings his hands.
“You know where to find him?” he asks.
“Yeppers,” she says. Haley followed the agent after he left the restaurant. He’s staying in a hotel off the interstate. It’s only two mile markers down from the hotel where the old rock star is staying with the writer.
“Okay,” he says.
Casey disconnects the line, falls onto the bed next to Haley. The laptop bounces and Haley catches it before it tumbles to the floor.
Casey looks at the screen. One of the contestants, a thirsty bitch named Dallas, is frozen, her face distorted. “If he gives her the rose, I’m going to lose it.…”
Before they resume the show, Casey says, “We need to be careful with this one. We’ll need some space, somewhere secluded. Find out what the agent knows.”
Haley thinks about it. They face each other and simultaneously say, “Semitruck.”
They’re two peas in a pod.
Haley says, “I wanna play the runaway teen hooker.”
Casey replies, “You got to last time. And we need you to play the corporate executive.” Though they are so much alike, their divergent upbringings suit them for certain roles.
Haley hits play and the show resumes. They both swear at the screen as Dallas, wearing a slinky sequined dress, totters down from the group of girls and accepts her rose.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
DONNIE
Donnie wakes up in the Holiday Inn Express. The room has two single beds and a sofa sleeper. The bed next to his is empty, but it’s been slept in. And there’s a sound coming from the sofa, a male form under a blanket—Nico. It’s coming back to him: the playground with Nico and Jenna, the decision to stay together, safety in numbers, the bed spins before he passed out. He rises, stumbles to the bathroom, and relieves his bladder. He wonders where Jenna is. She’s the one who insisted they all cram into Donnie’s small room at the interstate hotel.
He’s still wearing his clothes from yesterday. Raising his arm, he smells his armpit. Whoa. He needs a shower. But first he needs to regroup.
He’s feeling unusually restless today. Not the hangxiety or boozanoia you get sometimes when you drink too much, but a genuine sense of impending doom. He supposes that’s understandable. Jenna said that Derek Brood hired the crazy lady who forced him off the boat and probably whoever tried to blow up Nico in the coal mine and whoever tried to assassinate Artemis Templeton. Did Brood also have Benny killed? The news said they’d made an arrest of some dude Benny had put away. But that FBI agent seemed skeptical about that.
Donnie opens the curtains a crack. The room is on the ground floor and faces the parking lot.
Jenna is pacing outside as she talks on her phone.
“You got any aspirin?” Nico says, sitting up, his eyes squinting from the light.
“Sure, Hollywood.” Donnie digs into his travel bag. The bottle of Advil rattles as he tosses it to Nico, who misses the catch.
Nico downs the pills without water. He looks around the room.
“Where’s Jenna?”
“On a call outside.” Donnie gestures to the window.
Nico looks pale, clammy.
There’s a knock on the door, sending a wave of panic through him. But it can’t be the crazy hit lady. Jenna’s outside and would warn them. Donnie peers through the peephole. It’s Reeves.
Donnie opens the door, steps outside. He doesn’t want Reeves to see Nico. It will invite more questions. Donnie sees Jenna eyeing them from across the lot, phone still pressed to her ear.
“I’m headed out,” Reeves says. “I wanted to say goodbye before the Uber gets here.” He hands Donnie the keys to the rental car.
“Cool, man. We’ll connect next week?”
Reeves nods.
“I’m looking forward to seeing what you put together for the book,” Donnie says.
“Me too. You’ve given me a lot of material to work with.”
“Try not to make me look too stupid, okay, Hemingway?” Donnie grins. They shake hands.
The Uber pulls into the lot, and Reeves heads over. Before he gets in, he stops, calls out. “Hey, Donnie.”
“Yeah?”
“It was an honor to hear your story.”
“Shucks, man.” Donnie gives him a crooked smile.
The Uber disappears, and Donnie returns to the room.
“Who was that?” Nico asks, seeming both curious and concerned.
“A writer.”
“Writer?”
“Yeah. Long story, but we’re working on a book about my life, if you can believe that.”
Nico raises a brow.
“Don’t worry. It’s about the band.”
“Is that why you’re here? I hope he’s not going to dig into—”
“Don’t worry, Hollywood. It’s all good.”
Nico tilts his head to the side. “What if he—”
“Don’t worry. The book won’t get into anything before I joined Tracer.” It’s a lie, but not a big one.
“Then why are you in Chestertown?”
Donnie decides it’s safe to tell Nico about his conversation with Benny’s law clerk and the cryptic message he left for Donnie.
“He said we all had it wrong. He said, ‘The proof is with Boo Radley.’”
“What the hell does that mean?” asks Nico.
“You got me, boss. Boo Radley apparently is a character in a book. I thought coming back might rattle something loose.”
“And…”
“And no such luck.”
“I hate this fucking town.” Nico sighs.
“Me too, Hollywood. Me too.”
CHAPTER SIXTY
JENNA
In the hotel’s parking lot, Jenna looks out at the interstate, the steady hum of traffic making it hard to hear Artemis on her cell phone.
“You are sure?” he asks in that monotone voice of his.
“As sure as I can be. I don’t think either of them reached out to the FBI. Donnie said the agent came to his hospital room, showed him a photo of a woman who was on the cruise ship. But there’s no way she could’ve been on the ship and in D.C. when the hitter tried to take you out.” Jenna still hasn’t told him that she was the shooter. That the woman who set her up for the job knew about her past with The Corporation and threatened her family.
“You believe him?”
“I think so. Donnie hasn’t changed all that much and doesn’t exactly keep things close to the vest.”
Artemis makes a noise of agreement, no doubt recalling the whimsical southern boy from their youth. “What about Nico? My team says he’s a TV producer but owes a sizable sum to the O’Learys.”
“Who are the O’Learys?”
“A Philadelphia crime family.”
“What’s the debt for? Drugs?”
“No, gambling.”
The other reason people borrow money from bankers who wear leather jackets and gold chains and carry brass knuckles.
“Nico said he hasn’t spoken to the FBI and when Donnie mentioned reaching out to the agent Nico shot it down quickly.” She notices that Donnie is outside the hotel room now. He’s talking to someone, a guy who looks like a college professor—blazer with jeans, wavy hair that touches his shoulders.