Room 9 was even more spartan than the main office had been.
A single bed, tiny bedside table, lamp, TV, and chair. That was it. No pictures on the wall.
Sean opened the bedside table drawer. “Not even a Gideon bible,” he said, and slammed the drawer shut and wandered into the bathroom.
Ashley stood motionless, her hands clasped in front of her.
“Why don’t you have a seat,” Neal said.
Ashley walked over to the chair and sank down into it, her nose crinkling at the smell.
Neal set the six-pack aside, grabbed the remote, and turned on the TV. He skimmed through the channels until he found basic cable news. CNN, MSNBC, Fox News. Only CNN was showing live coverage this early in the morning.
The toilet flushed, the sink went, and then Sean emerged from the bathroom. He had a white towel in his hand. “Anything new?”
Neal gestured at the towel. “What are you doing with that?”
Sean slipped the switchblade from his pocket. He ejected the blade and used it to start tearing the towel into long strips. He pointed the knife at Ashley.
“Get on the bed.”
Her eyes widened.
“Sean,” Neal said.
Sean ignored him.
“Get on the fucking bed.”
He grabbed her arm and yanked her from the chair, pushed her onto the bed.
She struggled, and he slapped her across the face.
“Relax,” he said. “I’m just gonna tie you to the bed to make sure you don’t get any crazy ideas.”
“Wait,” Neal said. “Maybe she needs to use the bathroom.”
Sean paused, considering this. He asked Ashley, “You need to use the john?”
Tears had brimmed her eyes again. She nodded.
Sean leaned back and pointed at the bathroom. “Then get to it.”
Ashley scrambled off the bed. She hustled into the bathroom, started to the shut the door, but Sean was there, blocking it from closing entirely.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “Leave it open.”
“But—”
“Leave it open or don’t use the bathroom at all.”
She nodded, her shoulders down, defeated.
“Relax,” Sean said. “Nobody’s gonna watch you.”
Sean turned his back to the bathroom, focused on the TV as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
Neal and Sean’s mug shots flashed on the screen again. Both with long hair, Sean a beard, Neal a goatee.
The picture switched to show a house in a residential area. Cop cars everywhere. On the screen flashed the words POSSIBLE ACCOMPLICE?
Sean said, “They catch her?”
Neal said nothing, watching the TV.
A reporter on the scene spoke into a microphone. She said, “We aren’t getting too many details at the moment, but what we do know is that a woman was found dead in this home not too long ago.”
“Dead?” Sean looked around for an ashtray, didn’t see one, and tapped the ash on the TV stand.
The reporter continued, “At this time authorities have not made an official statement, but we have been able to confirm that the woman was an employee of Wrightsville Correctional Facility until Wednesday.”
In the bathroom, the toilet flushed.
Sean leaned back to watch Ashley wash her hands. When she stepped out of the bathroom, he pointed at the bed.
“I won’t run,” she said, her voice nearly a plea.
Sean said, “Don’t make me tell you again.”
Ashley crossed over to the bed. Before she sat down on it, though, Sean told her to wait. He took one of the strips of the towel, placed it in her mouth, and tied the ends behind her head.
“Not perfect,” he said, “but it’ll do.”
He had her lie down on the bed and tied her wrists to the headboard. Then he stepped back, nodded to himself at a job well done. “I could use a beer. Neal, you want a beer?”
Neal kept his focus on the TV. “I’m okay.”
“Come on,” Sean said, “you need a beer.”
He grabbed a can, popped the top, and handed it to Neal.
Sean popped the top of his own, took a long swallow. “I don’t know about you, but I’d say we deserve a beer after what we managed to pull off.”
“I feel like you’re not taking this seriously.”
Sean took another long swallow, watching Neal from the corner of his eye. He set the beer aside, took another drag from his cigarette.
“You don’t think I’m taking this seriously?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Fuck you. You have no idea just how serious I am.”
Neal set the beer on the TV stand next to the pile of ash. “If you were taking this seriously, you would be honest with me about the money.”
“I told you, I’m not ready to tell you yet.”
“When?”
“When the time’s right.”
Neal shook his head. “This is bullshit.”
“If you had one and a half million dollars stashed away, would you just tell any Joe Shmoe who asked where it’s located?”
“You still view me as a Joe Shmoe?”
“Don’t get me wrong, Neal, I appreciate what you’ve done. I told you I’d take care of you and I mean it. You’ll get your cut.”
Neal glanced at Ashley, who lay motionless on the bed, the towel in her mouth, watching them.
“You better not touch her.”
Sean grinned. “Why—you got a thing for her?”
“The only reason we abducted her was to use as a hostage. We agreed on that point when you came up with the stupid idea.”
“I wouldn’t say my idea was stupid.”
“She’s a risk, Sean. Before it was only the two of us. Now we have to keep an eye on her twenty-four-seven.”
“But if the cops catch up with us, we use her as leverage.”
“The idea is that the cops won’t catch up with us.”
Sean drained his beer, turned to grab another one.
Neal said, “I think you’ve had enough.”
“Fuck what you think.” Sean crushed out his cigarette, popped the top on his second beer and took a long swallow. “What’s your fucking problem, anyway?”
“We’re the two most wanted men in the state, and you’re acting like this is all one big game.”
“Is it that dead bitch?” Sean asked, pointing at the TV. “They won’t publicly announce it any time soon, but how much you want to bet she offed herself?”
CNN had since gone to a commercial break, but the meaning was clear enough.
Sean said, “You had a thing for her, didn’t you? You were pissed when she didn’t show.”
“She had said she might not.”
“And now”—Sean shook his head, taking another swallow of beer—“now she’s dead. That’s on you, Neal.”
“Shut up.”
“I don’t know what you’re so upset about. She got us out. That’s all we needed her for.”
“I said shut up.”
“Who knows,” Sean said, “maybe she left a note saying how it was all your fault. That—”
Neal’s fist caught Sean off guard. He stumbled back, dropped his can, the beer soaking the carpet.
“What the motherfuck?” Sean touched the side of his face where Neal’s fist had connected. “You really don’t want your cut, do you?”
“I’m getting tired of your shit.”
“Half a million dollars,” Sean said, “and you’re willing to give it all away over some cunt.”
Neal’s glare burned into Sean. “If you want to go back to prison, be my guest.”
Sean just stood there for a moment, watching Neal. Then his face broke and he barked out a laugh.
“That’s the spirit. Finally, you got some fire in your eyes.” Sean tilted his head at Ashley on the bed. “Wanna have the first go?”
Neal raised a finger at him. “You’re not touching her.”
Sean laughed again. “I’m just playing with you. But seriously, you’re cranky. When was the last time you slept? Maybe you should get some shut-eye.”
“I’m fine. Besides, we shouldn’t stay here too long, just a couple hours. Steal another car if we can. No telling how long before she’s reported missing and the cops start looking for the Mazda.”
“Sit down in that chair, close your eyes.” Sean grabbed Neal’s beer off the TV stand, handed it to him. “Some sleep could do you good.”
“I’m fine,” Neal repeated, but he wandered over to the chair and sat down anyway.
Sean grabbed the remote off the bed, started skimming through the channels. “I wonder if they have any decent porn.”
The towels strips around Ashley’s wrists were too tight. She struggled for a second until Sean glared back at her and then she went all at once still and silent.
Neal took a sip of his beer. He watched the TV as Sean flipped through the channels, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier until he closed his eyes completely.