Obsession (Explicitly Yours 4)

“Oh—shiny hair,” the woman exclaimed. “How on earth does she get it so shiny?”

“What?”

“I know exactly who you’re talking about. Lola.”

“Right,” Beau said so loudly, the woman jumped. “That’s her. Is she in there?”

“In here?” The woman shook her head. “What a doll. What an angel. You are a lucky man.”

“I’m a desperate man,” Beau said. “Where is she?”

She tapped a finger on her chin. “Gone, I think.” Her eyebrows knit. “She didn’t mention anything about a husband.”

His heart dropped. It was impossible. He wasn’t even in the room, and the walls seemed to be closing in around him. Somebody had to be responsible for putting him through this shit hour after fucking hour. He would wring that person’s neck for it—the clerk, this woman, Bragg. Lola. He steadied himself against the doorframe. “Gone? When did you see her?”

“Well, earlier this afternoon, Harold and I were checking in at the front office right over there,” she pointed to where Beau had just been, “when this girl comes in behind us. See, Harold and I had some trouble with our trailer this morning, so we had nowhere to sleep and not much cash on us.”

Beau’s face was getting hot. He rolled his lips together to keep from hurrying her along.

“We were trying to work out a deal when Lola taps me on the shoulder and says she paid for two nights—”

“Word for word,” Beau interrupted. “What’d she say?”

“Ah. Um, let’s see. She introduces herself and goes, ‘I was thinking of canceling my second night, so why don’t you take it instead?’ I ask if she’s sure, and she says something like, ‘I’m sure. I just got some news, and it’s time for me to move on.’ The darling girl, she didn’t charge us a thing and was out of the room in ten minutes.”

Beau was shaking his head. “No. That’s bullshit.”

“You’re a bit pale,” she said. “You want to sit down? My husband’s right inside, so don’t get any ideas—”

He walked away, got in his car and stared forward. Now, it was the roof that was falling on him. Lola had to have known he was coming somehow—to have done this on purpose. Revenge. Wasn’t it? She couldn’t know, though—it wasn’t like she’d violated his privacy like he had hers, scouring his credit card statements, tracing his phone calls, hunting for clues. He slammed his palms into the steering wheel. He did it another time, honking the horn.

“What the fuck, Lola? What are you doing to me?” He took a deep breath. “Enough is enough. I’m done with this. I’m done looking for you in the corners of the earth. I’ve had enough.”

But he took out his phone and dialed the number he’d already been abusing almost two weeks.

“Let me guess,” Bragg answered. “You’re so grateful for my help, you’re calling to see where you should send my bonus. I appreciate that, I really do—you got a pen?”

“Have there been any other charges?” Beau asked. “Anything at all.”

Bragg sighed heavily. “No, kid. I’m sorry.”

“Are you sure there isn’t any way she has another card or a cell phone? How’d she get this far without charging more?”

“We’ve been over this. It’s the cash.”

Beau looked at his lap. She had run because of him, and she stayed hidden because of him. He’d thought buying her would give him the last laugh, but he sat in his car, unable to even remember the happiness he’d had just a short time ago. And to think there was a time he’d thought he could slice her right out of his life like a bruise from a peach. He’d done this to himself—and it’d been deliberate.

Bragg cleared his throat. “Look, Beau…”

Beau lifted his eyes a little. “What?”

“Maybe it’s time to take a break. You’ve been looking for this girl for a couple weeks now, and you got nothing to hang your hat on.” He hesitated. “Thing is, you haven’t even told me the reason.”

“You want to know why?”

“Guess I should’ve asked this earlier, but you didn’t strike me as the vengeful type—it’s not because you want to hurt her, is it? Just that you seem a little strung out.”

“No,” Beau said flatly. “I don’t want to hurt her. There are a lot of things I don’t want to do, though, like keep chasing her or go home without her.”

Bragg grunted. “Could it be that you’re in love with her?”

It was such an odd question, even odder coming from Bragg, who never asked why—who rarely strayed from business. Beau didn’t answer.

“Don’t you have someone you can talk to about this?” Bragg asked. “Brigitte?”

“Brigitte hates any woman who has my attention.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” the detective said, “but I do know this ain’t healthy. You’ve got to let Lola go. I think she wants to be let go.”

“I know, it’s just that we had these two nights…” Beau said.

Bragg was silent. Beau didn’t blame him. It was a weird thing to say. He’d had no one to talk to about this. He wasn’t even sure he could count his time with Lola after those two nights—not if she’d been plotting against him the whole time. His heart sank. Maybe that was how she’d felt about all of their time together.