Read Online Rob Cornell - Ridley Brone 02 - The Hustle by Rob Cornell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rob Cornell
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“Sheila.” Then she turned her back to me and let the guard escort her out of the room.
“You need a broken arm?” Belly asked.
I smiled up at him, choking back the boiling gorge in my throat. “I got it.” I stood and yanked my arm free, then saw myself out of the visitor’s room. I had to go through the rigmarole of collecting my things and marching through a series of barred doors. The process was almost too much to bear.
I made it outside without unzipping my skin and leaping free of it. The air didn’t smell as fresh as I expected. A weird stink permeated from the prison grounds. I almost gagged on it.
I didn’t remember getting in my car, nor the drive to the hotel. All I could see was a sheet of red where memories should have been. Somehow, I didn’t get into a wreck on the way over. I guess fate had decided I was wrecked enough.
Chapter 9
The clerk at the desk told me no one by that name had checked into the hotel. I tried to argue with him, but it was half-hearted. Obviously, she had either checked in under an assumed name or had her driver/gopher check in under his name—a name I did not know.
I pretended to head out of the lobby, hesitated long enough until the clerk got involved with another customer, then slipped into the stairwell. Safely out of sight on the first floor, I took the elevator up to where Sheila’s room had been.
I didn’t really expect to find her still in the room. But if someone else hadn’t yet checked into the same room, maybe I could find a clue where she might have headed next.
I found something even better than a clue. I found Sheila.
I had knocked to make sure no one was in the room before attempting to break in. Then I heard the deadbolt click. I scurried through my mind to find some excuse for knocking— Oops, wrong room —until Sheila opened the door and stopped all thinking for a second.
“Ridley,” she said when I didn’t say something first.
“I didn’t expect to find you here still.”
“I hadn’t expected to stay. But I wanted to pay my respects before leaving.”
I felt a pinch deep in my chest. “You been over yet?”
“Not yet.”
“You want a lift?”
She thought a second, probably wondering why I’d come back to see her. But she didn’t ask. “Let me grab my coat.”
I used the drive over to chew on how I wanted to approach her about what Autumn had told me. I wanted to shout accusations and judgments in her face. I’d done enough shouting the last few days, though. Going on the offensive like that wouldn’t get me far with Sheila anyway. She had always had a steel coating over her heart, not cold, but strong. Though the drinking had probably cracked that shell, I could tell by the look in her eyes it still held.
The snowing had eased up, light flakes dancing on the cold breeze, alighting on the naked tree branches and the headstones in the cemetery.
Sheila and I stood side-by-side before my parents’ graves, looking down as if we could see them there, asleep on beds of silk and matching pillows. A crust of snow obscured the writing on their headstones. I brushed both of them off with a gloved hand. The thorny brown stems from the roses I left in the fall poked out of the snow, headless, between the stones.
Sheila took my arm. “I miss them.”
Despite my anger, her touch felt comforting. I could almost pretend we were back before Autumn had come back into my life, before Sheila had run off, before I’d learned about her secret affair with the man who had sold my daughter. Almost. The sour taste on my tongue wouldn’t let me, though.
“You’ve kept a lot of things from me,” I said.
I expected some surprise, but she didn’t so much as turn to me, just kept holding my arm, gazing down at the gravesite, our combined body heat a small buffer against the cold.
“Well?” I said.
“I won’t deny it.” She let out a long breath which smoked in the winter air. “What’s on your mind, Ridley?”
“I went to see
“You need a broken arm?” Belly asked.
I smiled up at him, choking back the boiling gorge in my throat. “I got it.” I stood and yanked my arm free, then saw myself out of the visitor’s room. I had to go through the rigmarole of collecting my things and marching through a series of barred doors. The process was almost too much to bear.
I made it outside without unzipping my skin and leaping free of it. The air didn’t smell as fresh as I expected. A weird stink permeated from the prison grounds. I almost gagged on it.
I didn’t remember getting in my car, nor the drive to the hotel. All I could see was a sheet of red where memories should have been. Somehow, I didn’t get into a wreck on the way over. I guess fate had decided I was wrecked enough.
Chapter 9
The clerk at the desk told me no one by that name had checked into the hotel. I tried to argue with him, but it was half-hearted. Obviously, she had either checked in under an assumed name or had her driver/gopher check in under his name—a name I did not know.
I pretended to head out of the lobby, hesitated long enough until the clerk got involved with another customer, then slipped into the stairwell. Safely out of sight on the first floor, I took the elevator up to where Sheila’s room had been.
I didn’t really expect to find her still in the room. But if someone else hadn’t yet checked into the same room, maybe I could find a clue where she might have headed next.
I found something even better than a clue. I found Sheila.
I had knocked to make sure no one was in the room before attempting to break in. Then I heard the deadbolt click. I scurried through my mind to find some excuse for knocking— Oops, wrong room —until Sheila opened the door and stopped all thinking for a second.
“Ridley,” she said when I didn’t say something first.
“I didn’t expect to find you here still.”
“I hadn’t expected to stay. But I wanted to pay my respects before leaving.”
I felt a pinch deep in my chest. “You been over yet?”
“Not yet.”
“You want a lift?”
She thought a second, probably wondering why I’d come back to see her. But she didn’t ask. “Let me grab my coat.”
I used the drive over to chew on how I wanted to approach her about what Autumn had told me. I wanted to shout accusations and judgments in her face. I’d done enough shouting the last few days, though. Going on the offensive like that wouldn’t get me far with Sheila anyway. She had always had a steel coating over her heart, not cold, but strong. Though the drinking had probably cracked that shell, I could tell by the look in her eyes it still held.
The snowing had eased up, light flakes dancing on the cold breeze, alighting on the naked tree branches and the headstones in the cemetery.
Sheila and I stood side-by-side before my parents’ graves, looking down as if we could see them there, asleep on beds of silk and matching pillows. A crust of snow obscured the writing on their headstones. I brushed both of them off with a gloved hand. The thorny brown stems from the roses I left in the fall poked out of the snow, headless, between the stones.
Sheila took my arm. “I miss them.”
Despite my anger, her touch felt comforting. I could almost pretend we were back before Autumn had come back into my life, before Sheila had run off, before I’d learned about her secret affair with the man who had sold my daughter. Almost. The sour taste on my tongue wouldn’t let me, though.
“You’ve kept a lot of things from me,” I said.
I expected some surprise, but she didn’t so much as turn to me, just kept holding my arm, gazing down at the gravesite, our combined body heat a small buffer against the cold.
“Well?” I said.
“I won’t deny it.” She let out a long breath which smoked in the winter air. “What’s on your mind, Ridley?”
“I went to see
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