MICAH PULLED into the graveled lot of the Budget Inn. One car was parked in the lot. He noted its out-of-state plates.
He was heading inside to check with the clerk when he heard his name.
“Micah! Hey, Micah!”
Ellen stood on the second-floor balcony. Dressed in the same Carhartts but a different shirt. The sun glossed her hair and made it shine like a mirror—which was a stupid, dainty detail to take note of. Micah chided himself for it.
He said, “How much to take you?”
She gave him a number. It was quite a high one, with more than two zeroes.
Wouldn’t anything be high enough? an arch voice whispered in his head. Wouldn’t her giving you the time of day be enough?
“We leave tomorrow. My partners will come.”
She slapped the balcony railing and hooted. “Goddamn it, Micah. I was just about to give up on you.”
You are making a fool of yourself, said that arch voice.
Well. Maybe so. He liked to think he never made the same mistake twice. He didn’t have much experience with women—one mistake was within his rights, wasn’t it?