Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN IN ROOM SEVEN
Amelia had been staying at the Silver Pine Motel.
Room seven.
A narrow room with faded curtains, a heater that rattled all night, and a bathroom door that wouldn't close properly.
Lorenzo stood in the doorway.
He looked at the thin blanket.
The instant noodles.
The half-empty water bottle.
And the small pile of clothes folded beside the bed.
His chest tightened.
Amelia watched his expression.
“Don't.”
He looked at her.
“Don't what?”
“Don't look at everything like it's disgusting.”
He swallowed.
“I'm not.”
She crossed her arms.
“I know it's not your estate.”
“That isn't what I was thinking.”
She looked away.
Lorenzo stepped back.
“Would you prefer I leave?”
Amelia hesitated.
Then nodded.
“Yes.”
He reached into his pocket.
She stiffened.
He stopped.
Then slowly withdrew a business card.
“That's my number. You already know it, but—”
“I know.”
He placed the card on the dresser.
“I'll be at the hotel near the main street.”
She stared.
“You're not going back to Chicago?”
“Not tonight.”
“Why?”
Lorenzo looked at her.
“Because I need to understand what happened.”
Her expression hardened.
“And if I never tell you?”
He considered the question.
Then answered quietly.
“Then I'll have to live with that.”
Amelia's eyes filled.
For the first time since he found her, she looked less frightened.
Not safe.
May you like
Not yet.
But perhaps a little less alone.
