Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
So she either rented that car to throw me off, or more than likely she’s from out of town…
Perhaps Bannon was getting craftier. Maybe he was smarter than he’d given him credit for by using people he wouldn’t immediately recognize or suspect. He ran his finger along his tense jaw and started the car. Once he arrived at the rental car place, he tossed on a ballcap and headed inside.
When he made it to the front of the line, he smiled at the guy behind the counter who was wearing a blue business shirt with the company name, a man-bun, and bifocals.
“Hello, Darryl,” he said, reading the guy’s name tag. “How are you doin’ today?” He tossed on a faux Southern accent.
“Just fine, sir. What can I help you with?”
“I rented a red Hyundai Elantra from y’all about a month ago, and though I know it’s a longshot, I was wondering if anyone here found my old MP3 player? I am so absentminded sometimes.” He shook his head, feigning distress. “As I was helpin’ my wife out the car with our newborn baby, I left it right on the driver seat of the doggone car. Can you believe that?”
Darryl crunched his face and offered a crooked smile. “That happens.”
“I called right afterwards when I got back to Houston, but nobody ever got back in touch with me. Now that I’m back in town, I figured I’d swing on by here and ask in person.”
“Hmmm, a month ago? Well, that was some time ago, but we do have a lost and found. You said it was a Hyundai Elantra?”
“Yeah. Red. I remember part of the plate number, too. A1F…”
“What’s your name, sir?”
“Todd Jones.” He slipped out his fake ID with the corresponding name and placed it on the table. Tapping his fingers on the counter to the beat of the song playing softly in the background—‘You Are Not Alone,’ by Michael Jackson—he tried to appear patient, but with a dash of worry. The employee typed away, pulling up information on the computer. He looked closely at the man’s glasses, catching the reflection of the computer screen in them as he scrolled up and down… searching…
“Todd Jones… Todd Jones… Nope. Don’t see ya. Maybe it was entered with a spelling error. Let me try typing it with only one ‘d’.”
He caught the glimpse of a recent rental of a car of that exact same description—yenoH, or ‘Honey’ when flipping the letters. The man was scrolling too fast and he couldn’t see anything else.
“Hmmm, I do see that the license plate on it does match what you said, but I don’t see your name here. Are you sure it was a Hyundai Elantra? We have more than one vehicle that could—”
“Yes, sir, I am.”
“Well, your name isn’t here.” The guy shrugged. “I can still check the Lost and Found, but it’s in the back and I didn’t see an MP3 player in there because we check and put stuff back there pretty frequently. Hey, Frankie!”
Another employee who was helping other customers a few feet away from him turned his way. “Yeah?”
“Did anyone find an mp3 player in one of the cars that you know of? Like a month ago, maybe?”
“Nah, not that I recall. You could ask Mark, but he isn’t in today.” He then returned to assisting his customers, an older couple wearing matching straw hats.
“Without your name listed in our system, that makes it even harder. You must have the wrong Enterprise location because there’s another one about four miles away, and people come here by mistake all the time. I’d go check with them.”
“This is definitely the place I was at and unfortunately, I don’t have my paperwork anymore to prove it.” He threw up his hands. “I don’t know why I’m not in the system,” he pointed to the back of the computer, “…but I should be. It was for a one-day rental. How would I recall the license number, or at least half of it, and the make and model if I hadn’t rented from here?”
The guy seemed stumped. I swear, the managers of this place must get motherfuckers with Easter Peeps and plastic grass for brains, hire ’em and act like they’re supposed to do the Lord’s work.
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Well, certainly that little tidbit would rule out that this is the wrong location. Look, I’m sorry if I’m comin’ across as a bit desperate and on edge. My wife is going to kill me because that was her MP3 player, and though it was kinda old, not the sort of thing worth much, it had sentimental value. Her sister gave it to her as a birthday gift a few years back with some songs already loaded on it that they enjoyed when they were younger, and her sister is now dead.”