Chapter Eleven
I lay back on the bed with a groan, stared at the pebbled plaster ceiling of our motel room, and prayed for the day to end quickly.
Melanie sat cross-legged on the other bed, watching some show about young female lawyers in microminis and “f**k me” Manolo Blahniks, who couldn’t understand why the senior partners at their firm weren’t taking them seriously.
Sending the car off behind a tow truck left us little choice but to walk to a nearby motel. The price was right, and a woman at the front desk with a broad smile and a mole of unique proportions on her nose assured us the ice machine was probably working.
Sudlerville, Pennsylvania, was a small town with few diversions. It had an auto repair shop and a motel, both AAA-approved. It also had a shopping center, a church, a
