Killing Me by Michelle Gagnon

Author:Michelle Gagnon [Gagnon, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2023-05-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

You Can’t Escape

A casual observer might have found it odd when a uniform delivery truck backed up to the service entrance of a wig supply store. Odder still that five minutes after it departed, a series of other delivery trucks followed: catering and florist vans, office supplies, even a cable truck.

Had that same puzzled observer attempted to follow even one of those vehicles, they would have been led on a meandering tour of the Strip, forced to wait outside the guarded service garages of various hotel/casinos as the vehicle was waved inside. Each stop lasted only minutes before the truck glided back out, headed to the next destination.

No one else gave the trucks a second glance—after all, they were part and parcel of life in Las Vegas, the nickel beneath the gold plating, the cogs that kept everything spinning as smoothly as a roulette wheel. Effectively invisible to the revelers stumbling past en route to their next gambling/booze/sex/drug fix, which was precisely as intended.

Only one of those locations mattered, however: the Strat. The hotel was a slim needle that jutted out of the desert, topped by a SkyPod with four thrill rides. Though it towered above the city, the hotel was on precarious footing, becoming less desirable with every glistening new addition to the Strip.

Still, it was a major step up from the Getaway.

Dot, Marcella, Grace, and I rode there in a refrigerated food delivery truck, shivering under a stack of blankets. “No one would follow a reefer truck,” Dot had declared as we slid Grace in on a makeshift stretcher.

I was less certain but didn’t say anything. At least it wasn’t a florist delivery van. But despite the blankets, by the time we arrived at the Strat, I was pretty sure I was going to lose a couple of toes to hypothermia. Even Dot was uncharacteristically quiet.

Grace actually fell asleep. I was tempted to kick the stretcher to wake her up—she had gotten us into this mess, the least she could do was suffer through the ride with us. But I managed to restrain myself. Dr. Aboud had dosed her with extra morphine, so it wasn’t entirely her fault.

The door finally slid open, revealing a docking bay. Our driver was a burly, middle-aged man in coveralls. Dot gave him a big hug after he helped her down and said, “Thanks, Stan. You’re a prince.”

Stan nodded, looking embarrassed. “Gotta be at the Mirage in twenty, so better make this quick.”

I hopped down after her. The garage was blessedly hot; it was like stepping from a fridge into an oven. I rubbed my arms and tried to stamp feeling back into my feet. Marcella sauntered over to a pillar. Leaning against it, she pulled out her vape pen. She and Dot were still in their bloody clothing. Thank God the docking bay was empty, because we were definitely a strange group.

I tapped Grace’s foot to wake her. “Can you get out on your own?”

Grace tilted her head up. Grimacing, she eased herself off the stretcher to the lip of the truck.

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