While the clerk dealt with his caller, Jeff took further stock of the room. The bed was made, the air held a mingling of cigarettes, air freshener and perfume. Her suitcase was put away. The luggage rack was not in use, which suggested a long stay. On the closet rod he saw various shirts and slacks, as well as the blazer and skirt she’d worn when she’d come to Asgaard.

A framed picture of a freckle-faced little boy stood on the night table beside the bed. Notes were written on the pad next to it, a motel pad with stylized palm trees bookending the name Oceanwave Gardens. Jeff read Vida’s handwriting: Jeff, 5:30, Café Romero Sunrise, Bayside Marketplace. He turned, blocking the night table with his body so the clerk couldn’t see while on his call. Then, attempting to erase a thread connecting him to Vida, Jeff pocketed the pad. Next, he browsed through magazines stacked on the desk and stopped when he came to a closed laptop under them.

While driving to the motel, his strategy had been to urge Vida to follow through on the job interviews and sell him her phone, laptop and any other devices. Everything he needed to shut this whole thing down was likely on those devices. He knew she’d probably stored things online—maybe he could find them with her laptop. He was desperate. His pulse started to gallop. It was now or never.

Jeff took the laptop.

The clerk pointed at him and ended his call. “No, no, put that back!”

“I’m taking this in case she left a note for her family. This actually belongs to them.”

“No, put it back.”

“She may have gone off somewhere to end her life.”

“And she might come back any moment.” The clerk pulled the computer from under Jeff’s arm where he’d tucked it. “No, you’re not taking anything. If she did off herself, the laptop will be right here. I’ve let you in to check on her. She’s not here. Now, I really don’t know who you are, but I’m asking you to get out now before I call the cops. They’ve been here almost nonstop for the last few days.”

“Why? What’s happening?”

“I don’t know why. Now, let’s go. Out, before I call them.”

Jeff walked back to his car empty-handed, got behind the wheel and started the engine. Defeated, he prepared to head home, when he changed his mind.

I can’t give up. Not when I’m this close.

He drove down the street, pulled a U-turn, then found a parking spot across from the motel that gave him a direct line of sight on unit 29. Digging through his glove compartment, he got his charger and connected it to his phone.

He responded to Lisa’s texts.

I’m waiting for Vida. Not sure when I’ll be home.