Page 117 of Too Old for This

Now, I wait.

—

Norma’s room is on the second floor, at the end of the building. Not many people come all the way down here. I know,because I’ve been listening for hours. Once, I thought Burke had shown up, but whoever it was turned around and went back the other way.

I don’t hear anyone else until the middle of the night, when someone walks down this way and stops.

I move behind the door.

No knock.

Burke isn’t supposed to be here until tomorrow, so of course he doesn’t knock. He turns the knob enough to realize the door is locked. I thought about leaving it unlocked, since the Dew Drop has yet to upgrade to a key-card system, but Burke would know something was wrong. Nobody leaves the door unlocked at a motel like this.

I hear a click, followed by another. The scrape of metal on metal, like a file and a pair of tweezers. He is a cop, after all. I’m sure he learned how to pick a lock decades ago.

Tap, tap, tap.

Such small movements, like a little bird moving across a metal perch. A louder click comes, followed by silence.

The door opens.

Inside, the curtains are drawn and the room is dark. The only light streams in from the parking lot. I see the top of his shadow in the doorway.

Light also comes through the cracks between the door and the wall, but only part of it shows. My body blocks the rest of it.

Something I realize too late. I’ve given myself away with my own shadow.

He sees it at the same moment I do.

I raise my hand just as he shoves the door back against the wall. Against me.

Crack.

Pain shoots through my arm, the knife falls out of my hand. I slip my other hand into my pocket and pull out the stun gun.

He moves the door, looking behind it.

I rush forward. Power it on. The electrical current glows blue. It crackles as I push it against his upper arm. He jerks and goes down like a rock.

Morgan said there’s a limit to how many seconds you can hold a stun gun on someone. I don’t know the exact number, and I don’t care. When he moves, I do it again.

My arm hurts, but it functions. It’s not broken, but it’s starting to swell. I use my sweater to make a sling.

He wakes up. I zap him again.

A chair. This is going to work a lot better if he’s in a chair.

The easiest way is to grab him by the arm and help him up. He’s confused and a bit out of it, looking from me to the chair and back again, and I have to guide him. When he’s right in front of the chair, I zap him again.

Thunk.

He falls right into it.

Morgan was right about these little stun guns. They’re fantastic.

Now for the ropes. They aren’t brand-new. I didn’t buy them at the same time as the knife and the new hammer.Imagine how suspicious that would’ve looked. No, these are from my garage.

I tie him up better than Norma tied me, starting with his ankles. Mine weren’t tied to the chair; his are. I wrap a rope around his chest and knot his wrists together. I only have to zap him one more time before it’s all done. He’s that exhausted. Apparently, it’s tiring to get shocked over and over.