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me. “I bet that belongs to that chick’s baby. Pick it up, will ya?” He pulls out onto the road as I pick up the toy. It’s all muddy from my wet shoes now, so I stick it in my pocket. We drive down the frontage road, pass the hotel, and then turn into the parking lot. The girl is still in her car, the interior light on as she fumbles around with something. I see the baby now, tucked inside a seat, bundled up with blankets. Dallas backs up the truck and positions it so he can drop the Bronco off in a snow-covered space not quite next to, but near, the girl’s brown Honda.
    I jump out and walk over to Dallas as he works the truck’s bed controls. “How much?”
    “Two-fifty,” he says with a straight face.
    I shrug it off and grab three hundred-dollar bills from my wallet. Who cares. He saved my ass. He deserves it. “Here you are. And Dallas?” I wait for his eyes to find mine. “Thank you. I appreciate it. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow when Jason opens and we can grab a beer or something.”
    This is my new thing, since I met Rook. I’m trying to make amends for any and all weird past behavior. I figure trying to blow him up on the golf course counts as something that requires an effort.
    “Jason’s probably not gonna show up tomorrow. And he’s always closed on the weekends, so Monday, huh? If you’re still around.” He takes the money and goes back to his business so I take that as my cue to leave.
    I stuff my hands in my pockets and make for the motel office, my head ducking into the wind and snow.
     

Chapter Four
     
    The bell on the door jingles as I enter the hotel, the faint sound of a TV coming from the back room. An older woman appears and sighs heavily when she sees me, like I’m interrupting her Jeopardy game show and walking up front to wait on a customer is the last straw.
    “Help you?” she asks curtly as she punches some keys on her computer.
    I put on my I’m not a psycho smile and remind myself that this place was once my home, but she doesn’t look at me, so it makes no difference. I try for directness instead. “Room?”
    “One left,” she mumbles. “But you gotta be out by ten, because there’s a tourist bus coming in tomorrow and all our rooms are booked for the weekend.”
    “I can manage that. How much?”
    “Two-fifty plus tax.”
    “Hmmm, everything tonight seems to cost two-fifty.”
    “It’s New Year’s Eve. Prime season for us. You want the room or not?”
    “Yes,” I say through my smile. “Thank you.” She passes me a form to fill out and give her all my details. When I hand it back she stares at it for a moment, then looks up at me with the same squinting eyes that Dallas perfected back at the tow truck.
    “Rutherford Aston.”
    “Mrs. Pearson,” I deadpan back at her. “How’s the library treating you?”
    “Retired. We manage this place now. Can’t complain.”
    And that’s it. That’s all she has to say to me, even though if you add up all the time I spent at the library when I lived here as a kid, it would total in the years.
    It’s my turn to sigh heavily and I turn away as she finishes the job of checking me in. She doesn’t inquire why I’m staying here at the crappiest hotel in Vail when I live down the street. She doesn’t inquire why I left the make and model of my car blank on the registration form. She doesn’t say here you go, have a nice night when she slides the key across the counter. The only other thing she says is, “Room 24, last door.”
    I nod and smile once more, but it’s futile. She’s already got her back to me, heading into the room where her game show awaits.
    I push through the door, the bell jingling my exit, and the snow assaults me as I make my way under the covered breezeway that at least attempts to block out the raging elements. I walk all the way to the end of the building, slip my key into the door and glance over at my Bronco.
    It’s not my truck that I’m looking at though. Dallas and the flatbed