He hesitated outside the door. Tried listening for any sound inside, but the noise of the traffic was too loud to hear anything at all. He reached for the doorknob but didn’t want to leave his prints. Besides, there was a chance the man in the suit hadn’t killed all the men inside. There was a chance the man in the suit hadn’t killed any of them.
Nova squared up to the door, raised his knee, and kicked at the spot just beneath the doorknob.
The cheap motel door gave way, and Nova entered with his pistol raised.
He stood motionless for a beat, and then lowered the gun.
All four men were dead. One was splayed out on the bed. Another was slumped at the table with several laptops open. The two smokers were on the floor. All of them had been shot three times each—twice in the chest, one in the head.
The man in the suit was clearly a pro.
Nova crossed over to the laptops. The video feeds coming through were from the cameras posted outside Holly’s mom’s and sister’s places. Another one of the computers only had audio; the men had planted listening devices in the homes as well.
He stared at the screens for several seconds before he pulled out his phone and typed out texts for James and Erik.
A new player showed up and took out the men in the motel.
Dark hair and dark suit.
Be on the lookout—he’s on his way to either of your locations.
Forty
Ryan was in a hurry that morning, even more than he typically was, racing down to the kitchen with his shirt half undone while he used the electric razor to get the spots he missed. He offered up a quick excuse—“Forgot I had an early meeting”—grabbed a granola bar from the basket on the counter, kissed both boys on the head and his wife on the cheek, and then, bang, he was out the door.
The boys, sitting at the kitchen table, stared at the door for a couple seconds before diverting their attention back to their tablets.
This was how the summer would go, she realized. Stacey Holbrook wasn’t going to offer to take her sons to the zoo every day. The boys may be out of school, but they wouldn’t do much more than play video games or mess around on their tablets.
Well, not if she had anything to say about it.
“All right, who wants to take the first shower?”
Neither boy volunteered.
She cleared her throat, loud and overdramatic, and the boys rolled their eyes at her.
Max said, “Where are we going?”
Matthew said, “Yeah, where are we going?”
She crossed her arms meaningfully, furrowed her brow to try to make herself look stern.
“Who says we’re going anywhere? Maybe we’ll stay home and clean.”
The boys looked stricken.
Matthew said, “Or … we could not.”
Max giggled and took the final swallow of his orange juice.
“Yeah, Mom, how about we go to the mall instead? Or the movies! The Rock has a new movie out, and Dad said he’d take us and that was weeks ago.”
The truth was Ryan had wanted to take the boys to the movies—take all of them, Tina included, the whole happy family—but they simply couldn’t afford it. Even the matinee tickets were expensive these days, and the boys would no doubt want snacks.
No, they ultimately decided, the money could be better spent elsewhere—like paying off one of their credit cards, or at the very least trying to get the balance down to a more respectable amount—but how does one explain such a thing to kids? They didn’t understand credit card debt or interest rates or credit scores. All they understood was The Rock had a new movie out that their friends had seen but which they still hadn’t.
Because Tina didn’t want to start an argument, she said, “We’ll see. Now, who’s showering first?”
Both boys looked at one another, and shrugged simultaneously.
Max said, “Why don’t you go first, Mom?”
She smiled and answered dryly.
“Why, aren’t you the thoughtful son.”
He beamed back at her but then immediately focused his attention on his tablet. So did Matthew.
She sighed.
“All right, you’ve forced my hand. We’ll let fate decide who goes first. Rock, Paper, Scissors.”
The boys groaned their annoyance, but they were grinning. They loved when decisions were made with the game.
Matthew and Max chimed in together—“Rock, Paper, Scissors, go!”—and Max ended up trumping Matthew’s rock with his paper.
Matthew blurted, “Best out of three!”
Tina laughed and shook her head.
“Oh, no. Fate has spoken. Go get yourself a shower.”
Matthew groaned again, only this time it wasn’t in as much jest. He grabbed his tablet and started out of the kitchen.
Tina said, “Tablet stays behind.”
“But—”
She cut him off.
“No buts, mister.”
Max giggled and shouted, “Mister No Butts!”
After some more whining on Matthew’s end, he finally gave up the tablet and sulked away. She would try to keep an ear out for the shower because there was a good chance Matthew would get distracted by the computer in his room. One thing that could be said about her boys, they were great procrastinators. They got that from Ryan’s side of the family.
A half hour later, Matthew thundered down the steps, his hair not totally dry, and he immediately grabbed his tablet and wandered off into the living room.
Tina called out, “Max, your turn!”
Max, playing video games in the living room, shouted, “I don’t need a shower!”
Tina closed her eyes, took a deep breath. Gave it a moment, and called out again.
“If you don’t head upstairs in the next five seconds, I’ll take every single video game in this house and throw them in the river.”
An idle threat, maybe, but her tone was severe enough, and in three seconds Max was running up the steps.
She had just heard the shower start when the doorbell started ringing. Not once or twice but several times.
Ding ding ding ding ding.
Matthew, in the living room, called, “I’ll get it!”
There was
