He watched as Claire wandered around the room – to the desk, then back to the front door, then taking a seat on a chair before speaking again. “I still don’t think that they have any information about you or me. Otherwise, they’d have a search warrant and they’d find you quickly.”

“That’s true, but I can’t stay and –”

Claire shook her head. “No.” Her voice was soft, but firm. “You’ll stay here. I’ll keep an eye on them. We’ll see the attorney soon, and we’ll figure everything out. Together.”

Marty didn’t know what else to say. Lucy thrust a box of fish and chips into his hands and started telling them about how she’d almost missed the ferry.

Family made no sense sometimes. He sat back and took a bite of fish.

It took less than fifteen hours for their plan to fall apart.

After the fish was gone and the last fry was eaten, Claire retired to a room across the hall from Marty’s, while Lucy stayed in one next to the elevators for better visibility. Since it was her second room at the hotel, she had to make up a name and settled on Marilyn Monroe, in an apparent jab at David.

Marty wasn’t able to sleep. He laid in bed, restlessly flipping and turning, listening to every sound. Every hour or so he’d get up and peek through the window, sure that he’d catch sight of an FBI team circling the building.

He never saw anything out of place, but more than once, as he stared out into the darkness, he considered trying to slip away. Claire would be upset, but she’d understand. The real issue was that the window was stuck. Even when he’d tried to crack it for some fresh air, it wouldn’t budge.

Marty gave up, and around six that morning, finally drifted off to sleep. He was deep in a dream when there was a knock at his door.

He jolted awake, heart racing, grabbing his bag before peering into the peephole.

“Housekeeping!” a voice called out.

The adrenaline was making him nauseated. He cleared his throat and raised his voice, trying to sound like Lucy. “No thank you!”

It was a poor imitation, but the woman moved on. Marty stood there, staring out of the peephole for a minute before making up his mind.

This whole thing was ridiculous. He couldn’t spend another day locked up in this hotel room with two FBI agents breathing down his neck. Claire didn’t deserve to have her hotel go down the drain over him. Lucy certainly didn’t need to get any other sweet but misguided ideas about how to help him.

Marty threw on his jacket and returned to the window, peering around the edge of the curtain.