Say You're Sorry by Karen Rose

Author:Karen Rose
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2019-02-11T16:00:00+00:00

REDDING, CALIFORNIA

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 2:30 A.M.

He turned into the hotel’s parking lot, holding his breath, then letting it out on a rush when he saw the Fed’s black Toyota exactly where it had been before. He pulled into the adjacent parking slot and got out of his car, relieved to find the Toyota’s engine cold to the touch and frost spreading over the windshield. The car hadn’t been moved. Both the Fed and Daisy were still in the hotel, the light still out in their second-floor room.

What they were doing at the moment . . . he didn’t want to think about.

Earlier, he’d seen the Fed standing in front of the window, his head against the glass, staring outside. At first he’d been afraid, worried that the Fed had seen him. He’d had his gun in his hand, aiming for the man in the window, when he’d glimpsed Daisy coming up behind him, sliding her arms around the man’s waist. They’d stood that way for some time, and then they’d both disappeared from the window. They hadn’t seen him at all.

So he’d put his gun away, feeling unsettled and angry because the relationship between the two was obviously more than bodyguard and victim.

But he’d also been feeling hungry. And cold. And needing to use a restroom somewhere. So he’d left the hotel, for just a little while. Long enough to grab a bite from a twenty-four-hour McDonald’s drive-through and run into Walmart for a blanket, some thermal socks, and a few snacks.

And a tracker. He’d been surprised to find one there, but he’d snatched it up and put it in his cart. He didn’t delude himself into believing that the tracker was anywhere near the top of the line, but it should suit his purposes. He didn’t want to fall asleep and miss the Fed and Daisy’s departure to whatever had brought them to Redding.

Walking between his car and the Fed’s, he crouched and hid the device in the Toyota’s wheel well, frowning a little. He doubted the adhesive holding the tracker to the metal would last long, but he didn’t need it to. He just needed it to stick there until morning.

Climbing back into his car, he moved to the far side of the lot where he could still see the Fed’s car, but where they wouldn’t notice him. He downloaded the tracking app to his phone, wincing because he’d likely just overshot the limits of his data plan, but he couldn’t worry about that now. He was pleased to see the blinking dot on the app’s map, exactly where it should be—exactly where the Toyota was. Then he pulled the blanket from its package, put his seat back, and fell asleep.

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