But with half the big resorts closed and tourists thin on the ground, Cleveland had a ghostlike air and The Paddler was one of the last places open for business. Charlie now resented agreeing to give hard-earned money to Juno, and the more she thought the more she suspected it would do little to help her godson.

Maybe if I sat down and spoke to Juno … Instead of giving her money, try persuading her to get the zombie mods removed and be a better mom. But who am I kidding? People turn themselves into zombies because it makes them happy no matter what. Zombies lie and make bad decisions. Above all, they’re selfish.

Juno had messaged late the night before, saying she’d checked into room eighteen and asking if Charlie knew when she’d get the money. With their internet down, Charlie hadn’t picked up the message until she’d got to the hospital with Rosie, and its bluntness made Juno and Mikey seem more mercenary.

Am I being soft? Why don’t I walk away? This million will pay Ed’s medical bills for six months. But Patrick’s my godson. The prospects aren’t rosy for a kid with a dead dad and zombie mom, but I should try to help, shouldn’t I?

Room eighteen was past an ice machine and up an outdoor staircase. It was near noon and the sun was blazing, but the room still had curtains drawn. Charlie checked her bag to make sure she had the gun close, before ignoring the Do not disturb tag and giving a knock.

‘Juno, open up,’ Charlie said irritably as a kids’ show blared from the TV inside. ‘It’s the middle of the day.’

Mikey’s BMW is here, so they can’t have gone far. Maybe the type of z-mod they have makes them sleep a lot.

‘I’m not coming back for this shit,’ Charlie shouted, this time pounding hard on the door and getting a look from a guy stepping out five rooms down.

I’ve got enough on my plate. I’ve …

Charlie noticed the door handle rattle from inside. There was a little voice around waist height, but the TV blotted it out.

‘Patrick, is that you?’

Charlie went down on one knee and put her ear close to the door.

‘I can’t open it,’ the voice said.

‘Push the handle.’

‘I am,’ Patrick said.

Charlie tried to think what the inside of a motel room door looked like.

‘Is there a bolt, or a lever below the door handle?’

‘I don’t think so.’

Charlie wondered if Patrick understood what a bolt was.

‘Patrick, is it a handle, or is it a knob, like a ball?’

‘Like a ball.’

‘Is there a button in the middle of the ball?’

‘Yes.’

‘Push the button,’ Charlie said. The knob rattled, then there was a click. ‘OK, now try turning it.’