Chapter 7 - Seeking Refuge In An Abandoned Highway Motel
The interior of Room Twelve smelled strongly of old dust, cedarwood, and decades of forgotten secrets.
Vincent flicked the wall switch, but the overhead incandescent bulb merely flickered once before dying completely.
He pulled a small tactical flashlight from his jacket pocket, casting a bright beam of white light across the modest space.
An unmade twin bed, a scarred oak writing desk, and a peeling floral wallpaper defined the pathetic sanctuary of his mother's exile.
“She stayed right here while the entire country mourned her tragic death in a yacht explosion,” Vincent murmured darkly.
Mary stepped cautiously into the room behind him, pulling her light blue apron tightly around her shivering frame.
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“Your uncle orchestrated the whole thing to seize total control of Vance Global Industries,” Mary explained, her voice shaking.
“He hired the man in the brown trench coat to ensure she never made it across the Canadian border alive.”
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