Identity Crisis (Sam McRae Mystery 1)

Melanie flipped through the motel section of my Yellow Pages. I got on the computer and searched online.

“How many days you figure?” I asked.

“Just one night. Maybe two,” she said. “Maybe I can set something up with a friend after that. Motels cost bucks.”

“Why didn’t you take Donna up on her offer?”

She shook her head. “I have to stop depending on her and other people. She’s done too much already, getting me my job, sticking up for me when I wasn’t around. I have to take some responsibility here.”

“Which reminds me, you never mentioned your previous arrest.”

Melanie looked up from the book. “That thing in Florida. Jeez ... I’d forgotten.”

“You forgot you were arrested?”

“It was a long time ago. They dropped the charges.”

“So Donna must have pulled some strings—so you could get your job.”

“Yeah, she did.” Melanie sighed. “Jesus, she must hate me.”

“Anything but.” I scrolled through a list of places. Everything was expensive.

“She gets me a job, and I get her fired,” Melanie said.

“Hey, if she hated you, she wouldn’t have sprung for your bail.”

“She shouldn’t have. It’s ’cause of my parents, you know.”

“Speaking of which, maybe you should call them.” I shook my head. “I don’t care what they say, these motels aren’t cheap. We should just drive to the nearest Motel 6 or something.”

“Sam, what do your parents think about your career?”

“Huh?” The change in topic threw me.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ask such a personal question.”

“It’s OK. Actually, my parents died when I was young.”

“How old were you?”

“Nine.”

“How awful.”

“Well—” I shrugged. What was I supposed to say?

“My parents have never approved of my choices.” Melanie sniffed. “They had it all worked out for me. I’d go to the right private college, meet some bright young man with a future, get married, and proceed to waste my overpriced education on a life of volunteer work and entertaining my husband’s business associates. Ha. Thank God I didn’t fall into that trap, huh? I would have missed out on all this fun.”

I leaned my chair back. “So why not call them?”

Melanie’s smile vanished. “Because they said if I didn’t do what they wanted, they’d disown me. So I walked away. And I’ve never looked back.”

Neither of us spoke for a while.

“Maybe things have changed,” I said.

She shook her head. “Donna keeps in touch. When she told them I was going to the University of Maryland—” She looked away, her face reddening. “They didn’t ... they said they didn’t care.” She thrust a hand to her chest, which heaved with anger. “I took the initiative. I applied for college. I’m paying for it. And they don’t care.” She paused. “Screw them.”