Chapter 72

 

 

Gracie stretched her stiff limbs. The mattress was a board, the pillows horrid lumps that refused to be pounded into any decent shape. She should warn Mary to bring her own pillow from home, since the room would be hers tonight.

At least she was accustomed to waking before dawn. Scott’s work normally took him out on the road by six, and the kids needed much time and nudging before school. She left the bed and stood with her ear against the connecting wall to room 16. Not a sound.

She peered out through a crack in the drapes. The Taurus was right where it had sat last night when she’d checked at midnight. She’d parked her own minivan on the opposite side of the double row of rooms, near the office and somewhat behind a giant agave plant.

There was a tiny, one-cup coffee maker on the vanity and she set it up to brew. The Skyliner offered a breakfast bar, but Gracie had picked up her own from a nearby convenience store: two protein bars and a bottle of cranberry juice. She didn’t want to be seen, in case the men did choose the motel’s fare. If she made any face-to-face contact at all, it needed to happen later, probably at the track.

While her coffee sputtered and dripped into the itty-bitty carafe, Gracie washed her face and brushed her teeth. Her sundress and light jacket from yesterday would have to do. She hadn’t exactly come out to this job equipped for a multi-day stint.

She poured her coffee into the paper cup provided, took a sip and added the contents of all the little sugar and creamer packets. It wasn’t quite as vile, but it wasn’t like her medium roast Ruta Maya at home. The room next door still seemed quiet. She peeked out the window once again.

The Taurus was gone.

Oh no, oh no, oh no! She set the coffee down a little too hard on the dresser, grabbed her purse and room key, and dashed outside. If she could make it to her minivan … surely the men couldn’t be more than five minutes ahead of her.

Okay, ten. She had spent at least that long getting dressed and making the coffee. She dashed for her van anyway. She started it and wheeled about to face the street. But which direction? Interstate 17 was right there—one minute to the on-ramp, and they could be miles away. If they’d gotten on Bell Road, it stretched for miles both east and west. Her mind worked frantically, looking for the next logical move.

Just as she made the decision to go east on Bell, away from the interstate—it was, after all, the section of the neighborhood the men were most familiar with—a white Taurus pulled into the Skyliner parking lot. A gray-haired man was at the wheel.

Gracie backed into an empty space beside the motel office and picked up the tiny binoculars Mary had left with her. It was Woody Baker, all right. He parked directly in front of room 16 and stepped out of the car, a small shopping bag in hand. It was imprinted with the logo of a CVS Pharmacy. She watched as he locked the car and let himself into the room.

Great binoculars, she thought. And a way too close call. If both men had been together, she would have lost them. She moved her van closer, parking it three doors away from her own room, hoping like crazy that neither man had paid much attention to the vehicles in the lot.

“I suck at this,” she muttered as she locked her vehicle and went back into her room.

Once again, everything was quiet in the next room. She stood with her ear pressed to the wall for a good five minutes, but the TV didn’t come on, no voices in conversation. Nonetheless, she’d learned her lesson about being prepared. She gathered everything she had brought with her, decided to forego the now-cool cup of bad coffee, and went out to her van.

Even a casual glance out the window of room 16 and the van would be seen. She pulled back to her previous spot and dashed into the motel office for a fresh cup of coffee from the breakfast bar. Even primo detectives needed their coffee in the morning.

The curtains were still closed on 16 and the Taurus was still in place. Crisis averted.

It stayed that way for three more hours, and Gracie was stiff and desperately needing to pee by the time the curtains parted. Note to primo detective self—don’t have two cups of coffee when you’ll be stuck in the car. She supposed men had easy answers—such as an empty soda bottle—for these situations. But that option wasn’t open to her. Until she knew Cody wasn’t on the move, she would have to hold it.

From what Mary had told her when they switched places, it seemed Cody and Woody followed the same routine as yesterday. Left the room late morning, had breakfast at a pancake place (where she wandered in and used the bathroom), and then it was straight to the track. She followed them inside.

Cody stared around the open lobby for a minute, then headed toward a door marked Lost & Found.

Heh-heh-heh, still looking for the phone. That was good.

She edged a little closer as Cody joined his father in the line at the betting window.

“No, we’re not leaving now. We just got here,” Woody said. “Relax, you can get yourself a new phone on the way home tonight. Those stores probably stay open pretty late.”

Cody grumbled a little, but Woody held up a keyring with an Alamo tag on it. Clearly he’d remained in charge of the car.

“I’m gonna place my bets. Why don’t you grab us a couple beers? It’s warm out there today.”

Interestingly, Cody did as he was told. Gracie turned her back as he passed within four feet of her. She watched the two men join up again and head for the stands. They sat in the first row, midway down, exactly even with the finish line. She took the seat on the aisle, two spaces away from Woody. No way were they getting out of here without her knowing it.

She pretended to study the racing form she’d picked up as she walked in. A minute later she felt eyes upon her and noticed Woody looking in her direction. Could she use this to her advantage?

“Who do you like in the first race?” he asked.

“Gosh, I don’t know. I actually don’t know a whole lot about horses, but my sister wanted to come here. And now she’s called to say she’s running late.”

He scooted over to the empty seat between them. “Maybe I can help?”

“Really? Would you? I’m afraid I’m going to be really bored if I’m not doing anything half the afternoon.”

“I follow the ponies a lot. Let me see your form.”

She glanced beyond his shoulder, toward Cody. He gave his father an eye-roll sort of glance then proceeded to drink the second of the beers.

“Do you win a lot at places like this?” she asked, batting her eyelashes, just a little.

He beamed. “I’ve been very successful in my betting career.”

“Oh my, you’ve made a career of this? You certainly must make a lot.”

He did a little aw-shucks shuffle with his feet and edged closer, pointing at a line on the form. “Now here’s the horse you want in the first race. Odds aren’t real long, but this is just the warm-up for the day. Yesterday I picked a trifecta—that means choosing the first, second, and third place horses in the right order. Carried home a pretty decent amount on that one. Course, the more you bet the more you win.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t feel confident about betting very much. Can I just do a few dollars?”

“Sure. Let me show you how.” He stood, ready to lead her to the betting window.

What could it hurt? She knew Woody had the car keys, so Cody wasn’t going to get away.

“If you didn’t bring cash, there’s an ATM,” he pointed out.

She noticed the window also accepted credit cards, but didn’t point that out. He was up to something and it could be interesting to see how it played out.