Page 3 of Fire Fight

“How’s the motel?”

I considered the best response and settled on, “Budget friendly.”

Mom heaved a sigh that echoed in my ears and settled heavily on my bones. Amazing how she managed to do that, even from fifteen hundred miles away.

“I don’t know why you insist on doing this,” she said, and I could feel her disappointment like a passenger in the car with me.

“It’s my job.”

“Come home,” she implored me. “Get arealjob. I’m sure the paper would take you back. You can even live with me and Dad until you find your own place.”

“No.”

This wasn’t the first time Mom had tried to have this conversation with me, and my stance was as firm now as it had been when I left Chicago eight years ago.

Whether they agreed with me or not, Iwasfirmly on my feetwith arealjob. I had a sizable savings, and took on frequent cases that paid well enough to cover all of my expenses.

I didn’t need much. I was a simple woman who lived a quiet existence, and I liked it that way. I’d already suffered enough heartbreak for one lifetime. Holding myself apart from others saved me from experiencing any more.

Not to mention the fact that I enjoyed what I did. I’d always been a curious person, but it went beyond the norm of human nature, something I didn’t fully realize until I was in college. I was studying communications and, in one of my writing courses, we were tasked with picking a topic and writing a research article.

In the midst of the project, I’d gone to a frat party with my roommate and seen some things I shouldn’t have. Like a dog with a bone, I dug and dug until I wound up uncovering a massive drug ring within the Greek system.

That was the first time I’d really put myself in the line of fire in search of unearthing the truth, and my professor had taken notice. She told me I would be extremely successful as an investigative journalist, and that I should consider changing my major.

I’d taken her words to heart, ultimately graduating with a Bachelor of Arts in Journalism and working for five years at theChicago Sun Times.

Until everything fell apart, and I left without a backward glance.

I shook those memories off before they could root and fester. I’d worked hard these years to heal from my trauma, and it hurt me that my mother didn’t realize how much it pained me when she continued to bring this shit up.

“Aspen…”

“No,” I repeated, more vehemently this time. “I’m not coming back to Chicago. I’m not going back to the paper. I’m not moving back in with you and Dad. Just…no!”

The silence in the wake of my outburst was deafening.

“Aspen—” Mom tried again, and the way she said my name told me she’d launch into a rant I’d never hear the end of if I didn’t nip it in the bud now.

“Sorry, Mom. I have to go.”

I hung up, and not a moment too soon as a car behind me laid on its horn. I fumbled to type in the address of my lodgings as I made a right-hand turn.

I knew from my drive by earlier that it wasn’t the nicest place on the planet, but when I actually stopped to look at it, the motel was even more than depressing. The rooms branched out in two wings that formed a ninety-degree angle, centered by a little enclosed lobby and reception area, the roof of which sagged in the middle. The paint on the siding was peeling, the wood beneath weathered and grey. At least the doors to the rooms appeared to be heavy metal instead of some other flimsy material.

With a weary sigh, I pushed out of Black Betty and approached reception.

The man behind the counter had seen better days, much like his place of employment. His head was pale and shiny, a few wisps of hair from the ring around his skull combed over top. He was pot-bellied and beady-eyed, and he boredly flipped through aPlayboymagazine, not sparing me a glance as he said, “Name.”

“Kay Asplund,” I said.

Despite my mother’s opinions, Ididtake my personal safety seriously. I never gave places like this my real name, and I always paid in cash.

The man dropped his magazine off to the side and scooted his chair forward until he was belly up to the computer. He tapped the ancient keyboard then finally flicked his eyes up to me.

“Do you know how long you’ll be staying?”

“I’d like to pay by the week, if possible.”