She glanced at her watch, though it felt like checking a wall clock to see how much longer she had on her prison sentence.
Maybe she wouldn’t have to stay. The girl had come for her daddy. It was the girl he really wanted.
At least she wouldn’t have to try and pry the girl’s location out of Mister Mick anymore.
Martisha hung her head, using her thoughts to practice her accent before heading back inside.
Wha mek me did tell him?
Why had she told him about her children? He’d been so weak and sweet. She never dreamed he’d turn out to be such a monster.
She could feel the weight of Bracco’s stare.
Me haffi move.
Martisha grabbed her purse and stepped out of her car. She felt light on her feet. She’d lost nearly twenty pounds since arriving at The Loggerhead. She found it hard to eat.
Suh stupid.
How could she have been so stupid? She’d let him get into her head. Ruined by greed. She’d never be a real nurse again. She’d end up in jail.
Bracco’s watchfulness draped like chains on her body. She wanted to scream.
Martisha unlocked the car again. She sat inside and opened the glove compartment to retrieve her gun, an old snub-nosed thirty-eight, a gift from her brother. Slipping it in her bag, she locked the door once more and started toward the hotel.
“Gud afternoon, Mister Bracco,” she said, nodding at the big man.
He nodded in return. He didn’t talk. Something was wrong with the man’s brain. She’d overheard a little gibberish between him and Miss Angelina and guessed he had some sort of aphasia. She could help him with that, but she never offered—too dangerous to spend more time with him.
It made her sad.
Was it her imagination or was he looking at her differently today?
No. No. Stop.
She couldn’t let herself panic. Not here. She had to get to Mister Mick’s room and maybe she could take a minute to come up with an escape plan just in case—
“Martisha, there you are.”
Miss Angelina met her just inside the door looking happy and calm.
Very calm.
She’s hiding sup’m.
The new dog ran toward her and she took a step back.
“Don’t be afraid. He’s sweet,” said Angelina as her own rat of a dog barked from its place on the desk.
The new dog stared up at her with one brown eye and one blue, still, as if he were considering what to do with her.
Martisha swallowed.
He sees the real me with that blue eye.
“Martisha?”
Martisha pulled her attention from the dog and looked at Miss Angelina.
“Hm?”
She scanned the room.
Nothing felt right.
The girl, Croix, stood behind the reception desk, staring at her instead of her phone. The new man with the blond goatee, the one they called William, appeared from the hall and took a place in front of the elevator, crossing his hands in front of him. He leveled his gaze on her.
Fear gripped Martisha’s chest as sure as if Miss Angelina had reached through her ribs and snatched away her breath. The woman spoke, but Martisha only heard a smattering of words. Something about Mister Mick’s girl wanting to spend time with him. Something about how they didn’t need her for a while.
They’re firing me.
She couldn’t look at the man in front of the elevator. He wouldn’t let her upstairs. She knew that. She glanced behind her. Bracco had turned, his attention locked on her.
He’s going to grab me.
“Are you okay?”
Miss Angelina was talking again.
“Yeah, yeah. I—bathroom,” Martisha pointed down the hall.
Her accent had disappeared. Her mother’s voice had left her head.
Come back, Mama.
She tried again.
“Mi guh—” The words caught in her throat.
Best not to talk at all.
Her mother had taken back her voice to punish her wicked daughter.
They know. They know.
She’d disappear like Captain Rupert. Her kids would never know what happened to her.
“Um...”
Angelina didn’t look happy about her plans to use the bathroom but Martisha moved past her. She couldn’t go out the front door. Bracco would grab her. She gave the man guarding the elevator wide berth, nearly missing the hallway and walking directly into the wall.
She slipped into the bathroom and leaned against the door, breathing heavily but feeling as if no oxygen entered her lungs. Her hand slid into her purse and she felt the gun.
She could tell them it wasn’t her fault. That he’d made her do it—
They won’t care.
Even if she made it to the front door, she’d never get to her car before Bracco stopped her. Or William shot her. Or Beatriz—that little woman might be the scariest of all. Where was she? Hiding? Waiting for her?
The back. The boats.
If she could sneak out the back... They left the keys in the hotel’s runabouts.
Martisha cracked open the bathroom door far enough to peer down the hall. She saw the back of Angelina’s heel. She was still out there, but turned away.
She slipped out and crept through the back door, careful to close the screen without letting it bang. She eased down the stairs, holding her breath.
Once on the ground, she ran for the boats, her purse clutched against her chest.
&&&
Chapter Forty
With Angelina and Shee beside him, Mason stared at Mick’s doorknob. Angelina handed him a new lock sealed in plastic and he took it, happy to have a project. It would keep his mind off Shee’s bombshells for five minutes. Keep him from killing her.
“Think you can swap it out?” Shee asked.
He nodded. “Yes, but I need tools. I’m
