Helen’s face held no expression. She hit the gas and the car sped away, off down Number Six Road again.
“No!” Viv rasped, struggling to get free.
“Shut up,” Robert said. He took his hand from her wrist, keeping the other on her throat. He reached into the breast pocket of his Windbreaker and pulled out an envelope. “Take it,” he snarled. “Take her fucking money. She’s your problem now, her and her husband. Tell her if I ever see her bitch face again, I’ll kill her with my bare hands. You know I can.”
He yanked at the neck of Viv’s sweater, pulling it roughly down. He shoved the envelope down her shirt, the paper cool against her bare skin, the edges and corners scraping her. The only sound was their heavy breathing and the crinkle of the envelope as he pushed it on her.
Then he used his grip on her neck to pull Viv forward. She overbalanced, and he used the momentum to shove her to the ground. She landed hard on her back, her wrist and the back of her head hitting the pavement. This is what it was like for Victoria Lee, she thought as her vision flashed white. Falling on the ground of the jogging path in the rain. She thought of Betty Graham. Betty had a lot of bruises. Like she fought hard. She wondered if cops would see the bruises on her body someday.
Upstairs, one of the motel doors flew open with a bang. Then another.
Robert White bent down, his hands out, and grabbed the front of her jacket. Viv tried to fight him off, but he was strong. She opened her mouth to scream.
“Excuse me.”
White flinched in surprise at the voice. It was male, calm, coming from a few feet away. When White turned his head, Viv pushed her heels into the pavement and scrambled away, scraping her back and her elbows. She turned to see the person who had interrupted them and went very still.
Simon Hess, the traveling salesman, was standing at the edge of the parking lot. His car was parked a few feet behind him, close to the dripping trees. He wore a dark gray overcoat and carried a small suitcase in one hand. His expression was utterly calm, only a small line of consternation between his eyebrows giving anything away.
“Are you assaulting that young lady?” he asked White, as if he were commenting on the weather.
White straightened up. His face was splotched red, his hair messed. Still, he managed to look the other man in the eye and say, “It’s a private matter.”
Hess looked at Viv on the ground, then back at White. His expression was blank. “I think she works here,” he said to Hess as if Viv weren’t there. “I need a room.”
“This is none of your business,” White said.
“Obviously not. It doesn’t change the fact that I need a room. I’d appreciate getting one and getting out of this rain. It’s been a long day, and I’m really quite tired.”
Viv couldn’t take her eyes off him. His smoothly combed hair, his large and capable hand holding the handle of his suitcase. Tracy Waters was dead in an ice-cold ditch, her family in ruins. It’s been a long day, and I’m really quite tired.
White smoothed the front of his jacket, and Viv felt a bolt of panic. Don’t leave me here alone with him, she silently begged the man who had just assaulted her. Please don’t go.
“I’m leaving,” White said. He looked at Viv, wet and cold on the ground. “If I were you, I wouldn’t say a fucking word.” He stepped over her like she was garbage and walked across the parking lot to his car. Viv heard a motor start, saw the stripes of headlights against the motel wall.
A hand came into her line of vision. Simon Hess was offering to help her up.
By instinct she scrambled away from him again, getting her feet under her. She was scraped and bruised, getting wet in the spitting rain. The envelope was still inside her shirt, against her skin. She brushed her hands together, wiping the dirt and gravel off her palms. Hess waited.
“My room?” he said after a minute.
She could scream. She could run to Jamie’s door and pound on it.
“Do you remember me?” Hess asked. He gave her a smile. “I’m a traveling salesman. The one who’s so memorable.”
Don’t show fear. Don’t let on.
“I, um.” Her voice was a rasp. She was almost glad White had attacked her, because she had a reason to look terrified, which she was sure she did. “I remember,” she managed.
“That’s good. I need to stay tonight, possibly tomorrow night as well. I’m waiting for a phone call.” He smiled again. “It’s my usual routine.”
“Okay.” She thought of the knife in her office. If she screamed, he could attack her out here in the dark. She made her feet move toward the office, giving Hess a wide berth. Her calf stung and her ankle ached when she put weight on it, so she limped a little.
Hess followed her. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she said.
“I suppose I didn’t need to intervene,” Hess said. “I know you keep the keys in the drawer. But that didn’t seem right. I should check in properly.” He paused. “You seem to have made him very angry.”
“Yes. I did.” Viv stepped into the office and grabbed her purse. She clutched it to her chest as if it were the most precious thing in the world. The gesture made the envelope crinkle under her shirt. One of her shoelaces was wet and untied and made a slapping sound on the cheap carpet.
She rounded the desk and sat in the chair. Hess put his suitcase down.
She pulled open the drawer with a numb hand and picked out a key. Number 212, upstairs. She kept her other hand on her purse, which she held in her lap. Ready to pull the knife
