Page 64 of Too Old for This

“What the hell?”

His voice is deep and gravelly. Not one I recognize.

It makes me wonder if he just happened to break into the wrong motel room at exactly the wrong time.

He looks to be in his mid- to late fifties, about a decade older than Archie. This man used to be good-looking, back in his prime, when that square jaw was still visible and his big eyes weren’t bloodshot. Now his skin has a greyish pallor to it, the kind you get from living an unhealthy life.

He pulls on the ropes, trying to get free, and then looks up. Sees me in the light. “Jesus Christ.”

“Jesus isn’t here to help you.”

“You’re her .”

“Who?”

“Lorena.”

This man is not in the wrong room.

“Who are you?” I ask.

“Burke.”

“You are thirty years too young to be Burke.”

“That’s my father,” he says.

—

For the second time tonight, my heart seizes up.

I have to sit down.

Wait, I’m already sitting down. I blink a few times, trying to get my bearings back.

Maybe I should have known, but I bet Junior here looks more like his mother than his father. Burke doesn’t have grey eyes and he’s in better shape. At least, that’s how I remember him.

Junior takes a deep breath, his chest swelling against the rope. I know that trick, and it’s not going to work. I’m better at tying knots than Norma was.

“Why are you here?” I ask.

“Why do you think I’m here?”

I wag a finger in front of his face. “Don’t answer a question with a question. I’m not putting up with that.”

He grinds his jaw, like he’s trying to contain his anger. “My dad always said you were a bitch.”

I slap him across the face. Hard enough to make it sting.

Junior shouldn’t forget which one of us is tied up.

“Let’s try this again.” I cradle my bad arm. All this mental and physical exertion is making it throb. “Why are you here?”

“Where’s Norma?”

“You’re the one breaking into her motel room. You tell me.”

My hope is that he catches on to what’s happening here, but so far Junior is dense. He struggles against the rope again, fails to loosen anything, and glances at the table. His phone is on top of it.

I snatch it up and use his face to open the screen. The Shelter app is right on the home screen. But Norma’s name is not in it, and the conversations I had with Burke aren’t here. The only messages are between Junior and his father.

—

The pieces eventually move into place. Click, click, click , like a lock being picked. Junior waits, saying nothing, not offering any information. Doesn’t matter. I don’t need it.

I smile.

“What?” he says.

“Do you even know what’s happening here? Or are you just doing what Daddy says?”

He pulls with his foot. The chair jiggles. A few more tries and he might rip off one of the legs. I hold up the stun gun, reminding him of who’s in charge.

“You’re the bad son, aren’t you? No, wait.” I shake my head, trying to clear it. “That’s not what I meant. You’re the loser son. The one who still does everything his father says because he can’t do anything for himself.”

“Screw you.”

“Now you’re just proving my point.”

“I don’t do everything he says.”

“No?”

“Not really.”

“So your daddy didn’t send you down here?”

“I didn’t say that,” he says.

The last text from Burke came in just over an hour ago. I turn the phone around, showing it to Junior.

Burke: Let me know when you get there. Don’t do anything until we talk .

“We should probably answer this, right?” I say.

He grunts. I type.

Junior: I’m at the motel .

A few seconds pass, then the dots. Burke is still up, still waiting.

Burke: Norma’s in her room?

Junior: Her car is here.

Burke: Okay. You know what to do. I trust you .

“Awwww…look at that,” I say. “He does trust you.”

“Of course he does. I’m his son.”

“And you were going to kill her. Your father needs you to get rid of everything that points to him. The camera in my house, the texts, the way he convinced Norma what to do.”

Junior stares at me.

“Not a bad poker face,” I say. “But you can stop now. I know Norma went to your father, trying to figure out why her daughter was making a docuseries about me. Your dad decided I was guilty of making her disappear. Yes? I’m getting warm here?

So he’s been ‘helping’ Norma—and I use that term loosely—to try and put me in prison.

” I sigh. “Because he failed to do it forty years ago.”

The look on Junior’s face throws me off. Genuine confusion.

“He didn’t tell you all of this, did he?” I say. “You have no idea what’s going on.”

Junior blinks. “You’re wrong.”

“I’m really not.”

“ You have no idea what’s going on.”

The tone of his voice makes my confidence falter. He doesn’t sound like he’s catching up. Junior sounds like he is ahead of me.

“Then tell me,” I say.

He smiles and jerks his arm. “Untie me.”

“No.”

“Then I guess you’ll never know.”

I hold up the stun gun, hoping there’s enough juice left in it for one more good zap.

He keeps smiling.

I walk over to the corner, near the door, and pick up the knife that fell out of my hand. Next, I grab the hammer out of the elastic waistband on my slacks. I set both down on the table, line them up side by side, and look at Junior.