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Post by LENA SAVOY on Oct 9, 2011 21:48:22 GMT -8
 Morning had settled upon Boston, bathing it in shimmering golden light. The streets were alive with the city’s citizens, their speeds ranging from workers rushing to their jobs to the slow ambling of early birds soaking up the new day.
Seated in a quant corner café, Lena Sparrow finished the last morsel of her breakfast and sipped her second cup of coffee. She needed it. She’d been driving for the better part of the night and she wasn’t done yet. Boston wasn’t her destination, but a stop along the way necessary to gather information and, if she’d allow herself, rest.
While the last words Logan spoke to her were that he was headed to the town of Meadow Heights, the last definite place she knew he had been was Boston. Her insides clenched at that though: ‘the last words’. She refused to let that message Logan left on her phone be the last thing her brother ever said to her. He was alive somewhere. She just had to find him.
“Are you finished, Miss?”
The voice brought Lena back to the present and drew her attention to the man hovering beside her table. Upon second glance, she changed that assessment to boy. He was no more than seventeen. His hair was bottle black and hung over his left eye. His face was acne scarred. In the moment it took for Lena to look him over he’d shifted his weight from leg to leg three or four times. Lena decided her looked nervous. She didn’t care enough to wonder why.
“Yes, sugar,” she replied. “I’m all finished.” She noticed the brief look of surprise that crossed the boy’s face. She ignored it. She was used to small looks like this. She was acutely aware that she sounded like she’d just walked out of the bayous. Lena doubted that a thick Louisiana drawl was very common in Massachusetts. Nervous Boy collected her plate and cutlery and shuffled off. Lena left the money she owed on the table and left the café. Her target was only two blocks away.
The Sunrise Inn was a rundown little structure that bore closer resemblance to a motel. Lena smirked at the sight of it. While she preferred— oh, who was she kidding? While she demanded that they stay in nice hotels while working a case, Logan didn’t like throwing away money he didn’t have to, and was entirely comfortable slumming it with the cockroaches in dives like this.
The manager of the Sunrise was a small middle aged woman whose nametag declared her name was ‘Gretchen’. Lena approached her. “Excuse me, ma’am?” she said in a timid voice, her face contorting into the mask of her new character.
“Yes, dear. How can I help you?”
“I, er-- if it’s not too much trouble, I-I was wondering if you could tell me if someone’s been here recently?” Lena knew what Gretchen was going to say.
“I’m sorry, dear, our records are strictly confidential.”
Her voice was patient, kind, apologetic. Lena stopped herself from grinning. She’d gone with the right angle.
“But you don’t understand!” Lena blurted out, dropping the nervous stammering and raising her voice to a hysteric pitch. “My husband. He told me he was going to New York, you see, for business, but I found this slip in his pocket for this here Inn and I—” Her voice broke here, tears springing to her eyes. “I don’t know why he would lie to me.” Gretchen was eating up the performance. She handed Lena a tissue, whereupon she thanked her and blotted her eyes. Her voice softened. “I just need to know if there was anyone with him. I need to know.”
“Oh, of course, dear. Poor thing. I’ll pull up the file right away. What’s the scoundrel’s name, dear? I’ll find the file for you.”
“Jeremy,” Lena told her. “Jeremy LeBeau.” One of Logan’s favourite assumed names. Within minutes Gretchen had the file and was spilling information. Sadly, none of it was new or revealing. Logan— “Jeremy”— had checked in alone, received no visitors, and checked out the next morning. It confirmed that Logan did make it out of the city, but that was small comfort to Lena at the moment. She left the Sunrise Inn frustrated.
To clear her mind, Lena took a walk along the pier. The city air was wreaking havoc on her sensitive nose, so much so that even the stagnant smell of the water was refreshing. Taking a brief, hateful moment to wallow, Lena sunk down on a bench and allowed herself to feel miserable. She loathed cities. She missed her brother. The next full moon was fast approaching. As much as she despised wallowing, she felt she had just cause to do so. Only for a moment. Running her fingers through her thick tangles of hair, she started out across the water.
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tag(s): open
word count: much more than my usual
outfit: here
notes: muse = good c: [/size] |
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