The Concrete Smile by Frank Zafiro

Author:Frank Zafiro
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books

The drive took over half an hour, and neither spoke. As they got closer to the hotel, traffic slowed. A couple blocks away, it stopped almost entirely. They inched forward amidst honking horns. Sam gave Rachel a nervous glance, but she didn’t say a word.

In front of the hotel, only a single lane was open. They saw the splash of red and white flashing lights washing across traffic long before they were close enough to see the police cruisers and unmarked detectives’ cars that lined the sidewalk.

They crawled past the scene with the rest of traffic. Rachel gawked like every other idiot who drove by, because to do otherwise would be suspicious.

Once past, traffic cleared up and they were quickly up to speed.

“It might not be him,” Rachel said quietly.

Sam didn’t reply.

“It’s a big city. A big hotel. Things happen.”

Sam continued to drive, silent. Rachel was right. Maybe another guest had a heart attack. Or someone ate some bad clams at the restaurant. But he didn’t think so.

“What did you leave at the motel?” Sam asked.

“Some clothes. Shampoo. Makeup. You?”

“A shaving kit and a few changes of clothes.”

“How much cash do you have?”

“About eight hundred.”

“I’ve got a little more than that. We can get a couple states away before we need to go to a bank.”

He drove in silence. The blood on his hands that was slick when he’d first stopped striking the man who tried to kill them had dried into a tacky, brittle paste in places. He stared at the dark flakes on his fingers as the approaching headlights swept past.

“I’m sorry about Finch,” Rachel said, her voice softening.

“Me, too.”

They drove a while longer. Sam found a freeway entrance and got on it, not caring which direction it took them.

They drove for another hour before Sam pulled into a rest area. He waited until there were no other cars, and then he slipped into the bathroom to clean up as best he could. He scrubbed away the blood, then took off his shirt and rinsed it. When he stepped back out into the night, a breeze washed over him, and he shivered.

At the next town, they stopped outside of a Walmart. Rachel went inside and bought him a new shirt and a pair of jeans. He changed in the car, and they threw his old clothes into the trash behind a McDonald’s a mile away. Then they got back on the freeway.

Outside of Louisville, he pulled into a Super 8 motel and they got a room. Both slept in snatches on the uncomfortable bed. In the morning, they got coffee and bagels, and went to the library. Sam waited in the car while Rachel went inside.

The morning was bright, and Sam slowly spun his lighter through his fingers while he watched all the life teem around him. People, dogs, birds. He felt a crushing guilt that Finch would never see these simple things again, and he wondered if it was their fault, and how.

Rachel returned after a while. “It’s like we thought,” she told him.

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