Second Chance SEAL(204)

No, I knew I needed to sit this one out as much as I didn’t want to. At least he was giving me a real job to do.

I watched as Travis and Emory got out of the car and popped the trunk. They began strapping on vests and tossing jackets on over top of them. I rolled down the window. “You know people can see you, right?”

Emory smirked. “Nobody knows what we’re doing.”

“You two look crazy.”

“We are crazy.”

“Yeah, but the scary, bad crazy.”

Travis laughed, zipping up his black jacket. “If we didn’t have the SEALs, we probably would be.”

Emory zipped up his jacket. “Come on. Let’s fuck shit up.”

They got back into the car and Emory pulled out into traffic. He did a quick U-turn and then made a right into the motel’s lot. He backed into a spot and then looked at me.

“Stay here no matter what. If you see us running toward you, do whatever I’m saying. If I’m yelling at you to leave, leave. If I say wait, wait for us and then drive. Got it?”

“I got it.”

He got out and I climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Be careful,” I called after him.

“I always am.”

Travis gave me a thumbs up, and then the two men quickly walked across the parking lot.

They melted into the shadows. I could see the room from where I was sitting but not much else. I looked around the parking lot nervously, but it was empty. Cars drove past on the road, but nobody pulled into the lot, and nobody was moving around the other rooms.

The shadows loomed deep over the motel. I watched as the door suddenly jolted inward. I couldn’t see them, but I knew they both were inside the room. The door shut behind them.

I realized that I was gripping the steering wheel nervously. I took a deep breath, trying to relax, but I couldn’t. Emory was in danger. He was putting his life on the line barely a hundred feet away from me. I could practically see in my mind Emory getting his body riddled with bullets, falling to the ground covered in blood, and it made me want to throw up with worry.

Nothing happened. I stared, anxiety mounting, but there was nothing. No sound of struggle, no gunshots, no screaming, just an eerie silence hanging over the otherwise desolate parking lot. It was taking every ounce of my willpower not to run out of the car and bang on the door.

Another minute passed. I was twitching with anxiety and worry. I couldn’t lose Emory, not now, not with so much hanging in the balance. It wasn’t the terrorist attack or anything like that, but it was my feelings for him. I realized I was in so much deeper than I had thought, and I was falling deeper every moment. I couldn’t lose him because I felt like I was just getting him.

Then the door opened and Emory was there, spotlighted by the single, weak, yellow outside light. He waved at me, gesturing for me to come.

I killed the engine and stepped out of the car. I trotted over toward him. I could see the tension in his face, the worry.

“What happened?” I asked.

“They aren’t in there,” he said, “but we did find something.”

He turned and walked into the room without another word. I followed him, wondering why he needed me.

The room itself had two double beds, an old television that probably didn’t work anymore, and that was pretty much it. The walls and ceilings were stained yellow from tobacco and the room smelled like someone had thrown up in it recently. It was basically the grossest hotel room I’d ever seen in my life.

Travis was sitting on one of the beds, holding a picture.

“Take a look,” Emory said.

Travis held it out to me, and I took it slowly. I turned it around and my heart leapt in my chest.

It was me.

I was smiling for the camera, my hair in pigtails, a big clod of dirt in front of me. I was maybe five or six, and you could tell that I was just about to topple over into the mud.

It was my dad’s favorite picture of me. He carried it with him in his wallet.

“This is me,” I said. “I mean, when I was a kid. My dad usually carries it.”

“Usually?” Emory asked.

“Always. He always keeps it.”

Travis and Emory exchanged a look.

“What?” I asked.

“It’s another clue,” he said. “We must have just missed them.”

“My dad was here?”

“There are some used glasses in the bathroom and the shower is still wet,” Travis said. “We must have missed them by an hour, tops.”

“How did they slip out?” I asked.

“Likely went around the back or some other way we didn’t know about,” Emory answered, crossing his arms.

“What do we do?”

Emory and Travis exchanged looks again, and then Emory sighed. “We have to assume the worst. It’s happening, Tara. We’re going after them.”