Page 101 of Lorenzo

“The lettering on the sign matches the way Elaine wrote it. She left off the first word.”

“That is your evidence?”

“It's more than what we had. We still have to determine whether Rachel was here.”

I pull into the lot.

There are four vehicles parked outside the rooms and one near the office. There is no way to know if any of them are Rachel's.

The curtains are closed in most of the windows. One door on the second floor stands open while a woman pushes a housekeeping cart inside.

Donna studies the building as I park near the office.

“No cameras facing the lot,” she says.

“No cameras at all,” I observe. “Though that's not surprising.”

She reaches for the door handle.

“What is the approach?” I ask.

“I ask questions.”

“And I stand behind you looking frightening?”

“You do it so well.” She gives me a mocking grin.

I choose to ignore it and look toward the office.

A handwritten sign taped to the inside of the glass advertises hourly rates. Classy joint.

I indicate toward it. “We might get nothing, you know.”

“I'm hoping someone will recognize that picture,” she says. “Rachel is a looker, so hopefully she drew some attention.”

She looks back at Mocha.

“You stay.”

He raises his head.

Donna points toward the seat. “I know. I’m sorry, but you have to stay.”

I watch them with amusement.

Mocha lowers his head again, though he watches us through the window when we get out.

The office smells of old coffee and musty carpet. A bell sits on the counter beneath a scratched plastic divider. Behind it, a doorway leads into a small room where a television plays loudly enough to carry every word.

Donna presses the bell once.

A man appears a few seconds later.

He is somewhere in his fifties, with thinning hair and a sweatshirt bearing the motel’s name. His attention moves from Donna to me, lingers briefly, then returns to her.

“Need a room?”

“No,” Donna says. “I’m looking for someone who may have stayed here.”