SAND DOLLAR MOTEL
THURSDAY, 12:34 PM
“What are we doing here, Mot?” Becca asked as she pulled into the closest space near Silas’ motel room. “We don’t have time for this.”
He slipped from the car and leaned in through the passenger window before holding up a finger. “This will only take a minute or two. Just wait here and I’ll be back in a flash. Promise.”
He trotted up the sidewalk to his door, glanced over his shoulder to ensure the police chief wasn’t following him, then removed the DO NOT DISTURB sign from the handle and let himself into his room.
The body of Elliot Newman still lay on the bed in which he’d left him, now clothed in a gaudy red and yellow Hawaiian shirt and a pair of cargo shorts he’d picked up from the local Goodwill store.
“How are we doing this morning?” Silas asked, moving up to the side of the bed and lifting the man’s arm to take his pulse. It was faint, but present—which was infinitely better than what could have been said for him before his visit to the funeral home last night.
Elliot’s eyes shifted, moving unfocused in Silas’ direction. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but soon gave up.
“Easy. Easy,” Silas said, patting the man’s hand before laying it back on the bed. “Don’t try to recover too soon. Your body is still breaking down the embalming fluid flowing through your veins. Your muscles and skin are still far too rigid for much movement, but you’re getting there. Slowly, but surely.”
Elliot let out a pitiful groan.
“Oh, I know. It’s frustrating. I know. But you’re not in any pain, are you?”
The man’s head moved slightly to the left.
“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.”
Silas laughed. Not at the sad condition the previously dead man was currently in, but in the brilliance of his plan to begin with. He wished he’d thought of it sooner. There was no doubt that a man with Elliot Newman’s knowledge would help lead him to the Hand of Cain far faster than he ever could on his own. He was now going to be approaching this problem from two fronts—first, the investigation into whatever strange deaths happened upon the citizens of Summer Haven, and second, from an archaeological angle. Whoever has the Hand of Cain would have had to use some tangible method for recovering it and Elliot was the perfect person to track that method down.
“All right, my friend. I need to leave you again. But only for a little while.” He reached for the TV remote and turned the flatscreen on, which happened to be tuned into the Cartoon Network. “I’ll just leave this on for you so you won’t become unbearably bored.” Silas glanced at the screen to see an Animaniacs marathon showing on the network. “Oh, one of my favorites! I believe you’ll find this to your liking. Who doesn’t get tickled by the Warner Brothers’ antics?”
Elliot’s eyes moved from the television to Silas without any visible reaction.
“Ah! A man of excellent taste, I think. Good.”
Silas patted the man on the shoulder, then walked out of his room, placed the DO NOT DISTURB sign back on the knob, and returned to Becca’s waiting car.