12: Silent FilmWynn cut the steering wheel sharply, veering her car into the Desert Palms Motel parking lot. The setting sun blinded her for a moment before she swerved into an empty slot. She had hardly shifted the vehicle into Park before frantically jettisoning from the car. Her heart pounded in double time as she left her driver-side door open and sprinted toward Smith’s Chevy. She stopped her inertia by placing her palms against the high wheel well and then peered through the windows. No sign of distress. No sign of struggle. But no Smith. She jogged to the front door and entered the lobby like a dust devil.
“May I help you, miss?” Cheryl asked, lowering a copy of the previous day’s Gazette.
“I’m looking for someone. A friend.”
“Most people here already have a friend. Or they would
