Pretty Sly by Elisa Ludwig Page B

demanded.
    “Well, the email address I found could be a proxy— you know, a fake address people use to hide their real IP. If you wanted to disappear, you could set it up that way.”
    “No.” I shook my head. “She’s not that technical.” What I didn’t say was that I really didn’t believe shewanted to disappear. I couldn’t let myself believe that.
    “Either way. She could be here but she might not be,” he said, sounding as conclusive as a Magic 8 Ball.
    “Why didn’t you mention that possibility before?” I asked, feeling frustrated. “I mean, that might have been helpful to know before we drove all the way here.”
    “You seemed so excited about finding her. I didn’t want to disappoint you. Besides, like I said, it’s pretty much a fifty-fifty.”
    Fifty-fifty. The worst ratio ever invented.
    “Well, I’m not leaving,” I said. “If she is staying here, she’s got to come through the lobby at some point.”
    “Okay,” he said. “We’ll wait.” Then he proceeded to close his eyes and drop his head back against one of the throw pillows.
    “That’s cool,” I said, realizing that we’d been up all night. I yawned involuntarily. “I’ll keep watch. We can take turns napping.”
    But it’s not like he needed my blessing. He was already snoring lightly.
    While Aidan slept, I waited. Or tried to. After twenty minutes passed and hardly anyone had come in or out of the hotel, I was impatient.
    I decided to do a little more footwork. The front doors slid open and I stepped out into the cool night air.
    A valet in a red uniform stood by the entrance. “Hello, can I help you?”
    Up close, I could see he was probably middle-aged— short and clean-shaven, with graying hair.
    “Maybe,” I said. “I’m looking for my mom. She kind of looks like me. I’m wondering if you’ve seen anyone like that over the last couple of days.”
    “Hmm.” He frowned. “I see a lot of people coming and going all day.”
    “She has shorter hair and she’s a little taller?” I prompted him.
    He paused to consider this. “Actually, there was one woman like that, now that I think of it. Traveling alone. I remember parking her car—I think it was a Subaru.”
    I inhaled sharply. “A hatchback? Green?”
    “Yes, I think that’s it.”
    “When did you see her last?”
    “I couldn’t say. Maybe a day or two ago? It’s kind of a blur, to be honest.”
    “Is she still here, do you think?”
    “She could be.” He shrugged. “Look, hon, I don’t have a photographic memory or anything. That’s all I got.”
    It was enough for me. So she was here. Or had been. At some point.
    I thanked him and headed back inside. I could go back to waiting now, or at least waiting until Aidan woke up. He was still curled up in a sprawled version of fetal on the couch. Behind him, in the back of the lobby, I noticed a bar set up with tea and cookies and pastries. I was starving. Complimentary snacks? Yes, please.
    I eyed the woman at the front desk. She appeared to be busy checking someone out of the hotel, so I proceeded to the bar and started to help myself.
    A TV overhead played CNN news. In the background, it droned reports about tornadoes in the Midwest and a political scandal involving a sexting senator. Then I heard the words teenager and suspect. My head snapped up.
    On the screen a brunette woman was standing in front of the long-term parking lot in Phoenix.
    The lot where we’d stolen the car.
    I dropped my croissant, and it tumbled to the carpeted floor, flakes of pastry crumbling to bread dust.
    “A 1992 Volvo was reported missing yesterday, and now authorities are tying the crime to Aidan Murphy, son of Hanson Murphy, CEO of MTech, the technology firm headquartered here in the Phoenix area.”
    The camera flashed to a balding man in a striped polo. “I seen him myself. I’d just gotten back from vacation and I came to get my car and I seen him sitting in the driver’s seat. He looked straight at me and