The Olympia Motel was a study in grubby functionality. Twin beds with grey sheets and a faded red cover, a carpet that held one’s feet just too long and an indefinable stench barely hidden by the acrid air freshener. Cheap and nasty, but available and out of the way. Ellen emerged from the grimly depressing bathroom and tried to raise a weak smile as she looked at Maria lying on the far bed. She could generate no warmth and Maria expected none. There was too much other s**t to worry about now. Too much uncertainty and fear. Both women flinched as Ellen’s phone rang. Andrew?
‘Are you going to answer it? Who is it? Ellen?’
‘Wait a second. It’s Andrew’s number but…’
‘But what? Answer it.’
Ellen bit her lip, she realised now that her mobile could be traced, but what if it was him?
was‘Hel
