Page 4

Chapter Three

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Escape

Penrose, Colorado

Peterson woke up in hell. The air was filled with smoke, screams, and the smell of roasting flesh. He tried to get up, but as soon as he shifted, his body shrieked at him. Everything hurt, and when he swallowed he tasted blood.

Okay , he thought from a distance. This is bad. Take it slow .

The smoke-filled landscape outside his windshield was disorienting. As he coughed, he stared at it, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The bus was on its side, he realized, and the windshield had shattered. Which also explained the shard of glass sticking out of his chest.

Seeing it, he started to hyperventilate. Blood pulsed out with each breath, joining the thick slick already coating his uniform. Peterson squeezed his eyes shut tight. He was still alive, and he’d taken first aid back when he’d considered becoming an EMT. Stay calm , he told himself sternly. And no matter what, don’t touch that shard.

He carefully shifted his hands and wiggled his fingers—they were free, at least, and seemed unharmed. His legs were pinned, though. Raising his head, he could see that they were trapped by something solid and heavy. He tried to shift it off his feet, but it was wedged in the footwell. And it was disconcertingly squishy.

He looked around for something to use to free himself. The screams from the back were getting louder, but he couldn’t be bothered with that right now. Anything happening outside his body no longer mattered. In this state of detachment, he noted Wright lying a few feet away, gazing blankly at him. Part of Wright, at least. The window must have sliced him in half, and Peterson had a bad feeling that the other half might be what was pinning down his legs.

Don’t think about it.

It was getting hotter. The smoke was so thick he could see only a few feet in any direction, which honestly was a bit of a relief. Peterson blinked sweat out of his eyes. He fumbled around with his hands, trying to shift the weight on his legs…and then something moved in his peripheral vision.

Peterson turned his head. A guy in orange scrubs was balancing on the gate that used to separate them from the prisoners; it must’ve been dislodged in the crash.

Shit.

“Please,” Peterson said plaintively. “Please help me?”

The guy looked at him. He was older, tall and slim. The guy’s eyes flickered, reflecting the flames outside and something else…

Peterson heaved a sigh of relief. Maybe they weren’t all assholes. In a real crisis, humanity shone through, right?

Or maybe not , he thought as the guy leaned in and deftly plucked the shard from his chest.

“My apologies,” the guy said in a low, oddly formal tone. “But I have a pressing matter to attend to.”

“No,” Peterson protested, but it came out as more of a sigh. He experienced an overwhelming sense of lightness as the life flowed from his body. When the guy drew the shard across his throat, he barely even felt it.

———

“Um, Dot? I can’t breathe.”

“Sorry, toots. I’m just so chuffed to see you!” Dot held me at arm’s length, beaming.

“You look incredible,” I said appreciatively. Dot was dressed in a brilliantly patterned housedress with a leopard-print scarf wrapped around curlers. Her cat-eye glasses matched her outfit, and her makeup was perfectly applied.

When we’d parted last May, Dot had spent weeks in hiding (thanks to me) and then Grace’s brother had murdered her best friend, Jessie (also largely thanks to me, since I’d turned out to be a magnet for serial killers). Fear and grief are exhausting; they had taken a lot out of all of us, especially Dot. But clearly she’d bounced back. She was glowing and looked every inch the blissful bride-to-be.

“Look at me, running around in my unmentionables!” she said, tapping my arm. “But I just had to welcome you in person.”

“The place looks great, too.” I cast a glance around. We were staying at the Mayhem, the nicer of the two motels that Dot owned. Still not as fancy as what Kat was probably accustomed to but decorated with lots of mid-century elements meant to attract a hipster crowd.

“Thanks, toots. And this must be Kat!” Dot said, pulling her into an embrace. “My, aren’t you a knockout!”

“That is awfully kind of you!” Kat kissed her on both cheeks, smiling. “Lovely to make your acquaintance.”

Dot’s eyebrows shot up. “Yours too, toots. I hope you’re treating our Amber well, she’s a catch.”

Kat nodded firmly. “Yes, she most certainly is.”

I allowed myself to feel a rush of pride. This gorgeous blond goddess who could have pretty much anyone she wanted had chosen me. Sometimes, it still didn’t feel real. “Y’all are making me blush.”

“Well, you deserve every last bit of happiness, Amber. Now, let’s get you squared away.” Dot tucked my hand under her arm as she led us toward the office. “I’ve got you booked in number twenty, it’s the best in the joint.”

“Thanks, Dot,” I said with genuine relief. I knew it was silly to worry, but as we’d turned into the parking lot I’d gone cold, wondering if she’d accidentally put me in number five. Not that there was anything wrong with that room, unless—like me—you knew that Grace’s brother had strangled one of his final victims there, leaving her body in the bathtub.

I shuddered involuntarily. Dot gave my arm a reassuring squeeze and said in a low voice, “You sure this is okay, kiddo? I can always get you a suite at the Nugget instead, just say the word.”

“I’m good, but thanks.” I was trying to treat this week as a sort of exposure therapy; staying at the Mayhem meant I’d be forced to confront some pretty terrible memories, and maybe that would help me process them. At least, that’s what I was hoping. Besides, I wanted to be close by in case Dot needed anything.

After all, I was one of her bridesmaids.

I’d been genuinely shocked when she asked. Dot was the unofficial Queen of Vegas, universally beloved, with a vast network of people who either owed her a favor or liked her enough to help out for free. When I’d said as much, she explained, “I know we didn’t have a lot of time together, hon, but it meant a lot to me.”

“So do I have any official bridesmaid duties?” I asked.

“Just the dress fitting! Other than that, we’re all set.”

“Really?” I said, slightly disappointed. “Aren’t I supposed to get you something blue?”

“Only if you want.” Dot patted my hand. “I got a friend who’s kitting us all out. You’ll love her.” Off my expression, she added, “I just want you to enjoy yourself. Didn’t want to put you to work after you came all this way.”

“Thanks,” I said, mollified.

As we followed her toward the staircase, Kat said, “I smell smoke. Are there fireplaces in the rooms?”

Dot burst out laughing. “Don’t I wish! That’s from the wildfire in Colorado. The winds shifted, and it’s smelled like a cookout all day.”

“I heard about that,” I said. “It’s pretty big, right?”

“A hundred acres and counting. Damn global warming.” Dot shook her head. “It’s messing with everything, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It’s chillier than I expected, too,” I said. “Thought a desert was supposed to be warm.”

“Ain’t that the truth! Cold front blew in last night,” Dot said. “Hope you brought warm clothes.”

“Oh, yeah. Turns out in San Francisco, you gotta bundle up.” That old Mark Twain saw, “the coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco,” had proven to be accurate. If I hadn’t met Kat, I might’ve already bailed for warmer climes.

Similarly, this was a very different Vegas from the one I’d left in late spring. The sky was slate gray, the air crisp. It didn’t look like there’d be much opportunity for the swimsuits we’d packed.

We climbed the stairs to the second floor, passing a veranda complete with a firepit surrounded by Adirondack chairs. “So is Jim still out of town?” I asked.

“For a couple more days,” Dot said. “I’m missing the hell out of him.”

“Is that the groom?” Kat asked.

“Yup. Instead of a bachelor party, he and some of his Marine buddies are riding motorcycles cross-country to raise money for injured vets.”

“That is very cool,” Kat said.

“That’s my Jim,” Dot said proudly. “He’s flying back the day before the wedding, so I’m on my own and ready for some quality gal time! Now c’mon inside.”

We followed Dot into the office tucked behind the firepit. I watched Kat take in the space as Dot ducked behind the desk to grab a key. The office was charming, filled with polished wood and Coachella posters. Still, I worried that Kat was secretly finding it wanting.

“Got it!” Dot popped up, brandishing a key. “Now, I want to hear all about how you two met.” The desk phone rang, and she frowned at it. “Ah hell, that’s probably number three complaining about the ice machine again. Why don’t you go get ready? Limo’ll be here in twenty.”

“I’m so excited!” Kat chirped. “I have never been to an American bachelorette party before!”

“Me either,” I muttered.

“Well, you two are in for a treat!” Dot exclaimed. “Now excuse me while I grab this.” Picking up the receiver, she chirped, “Mayhem Motel, so close but so far out, can I help you?”

She waved us out. Kat stopped on the balcony and shaded her eyes, scanning the motel’s exterior with what I hoped was delight. Turning to me, she gleefully exclaimed, “It is just like in the movies!”

“Kind of,” I said, hoping a tiny bathroom without spa amenities would hold the same appeal. We trotted down the stairs together, and I popped the trunk on my Audi. After wrestling the bags out, I turned to find her looking perplexed.

Kat frowned. “Where’s the bellhop?”

“You’re looking at her,” I said grimly, wheeling the suitcases. “I warned you it wouldn’t be as fancy as Napa.”

Gamely, she took the handle of her suitcase. “Right. No problem! Where’s the elevator?”

Sighing, I motioned toward the stairs. “On the plus side, we get some cardio, right?”