Killer Dreams by Iris Johansen Page A

rearview mirror. “Get us to that motel, Royd. My son and I want answers.”
     
    “Wait here.” Royd jumped out of the car and strode toward the motel office. Five minutes later he came out and got into the car. “Room Fifty-two. First floor. It’s at the end of the building. No one’s occupying the rooms on either side of you. I paid to keep it that way.”
    He parked the car in the parking spot in front of the room and handed her the key. “Lock the door behind you. Go in and get the boy settled. I’ll wait for Jock.”
    “I’m not ‘the boy,’” Michael said. “My name is Michael Edmunds.”
    Royd nodded. “I apologize. I’m Matt Royd.” He held out his hand. “Things are a little confused right now but that’s no reason for me to treat you as if you weren’t present. Will you take your mother into the room and get her a glass of water? She looks a bit shaken.”
    Michael gazed at Royd’s outstretched hand and then slowly reached out and shook it. “It’s no wonder,” he said gruffly. “But she’ll be okay. She’s tough.”
    “I can tell.” Royd’s gaze shifted to Sophie. “And I think your Michael’s pretty tough too. It would be a good idea to be upfront with him.”
    She got out of the car. “I don’t need advice on how to communicate with my son. Come on, Michael.”
    “Wait.” Michael was staring at Royd. “If you didn’t blow up our house, then it was someone else. Right? It wasn’t an accident?”
    Royd didn’t hesitate. “Right. It wasn’t an accident. It was just someone trying to make it look like an accident.”
    “That’s enough,” Sophie said.
    Royd shrugged. “This seems to be my time for making blunders.”
    “It will be a big blunder if you don’t come in soon and tell me exactly what’s happening.” She glanced at Michael. “I mean, tell us.”
    He smiled faintly. “I thought that was what you meant. I’ll be in as soon as Jock gets here.”
    “You’d better.” She strode to the door and unlocked it. “I’m tired of being put off, Royd.”
    “He said to lock the door,” Michael said as she slammed the door behind them.
    She turned the dead bolt. “I was going to do it.”
    “You’re mad at him.” Michael was studying her face. “Why?”
    “He rubs me the wrong way.”
    “Didn’t he sort of save us?”
    “Yes. Sort of.”
    “But you don’t like him.”
    “I don’t know him well. But he’s one of those people who run over you if you don’t get out of their way.”
    “I didn’t like him much either at first but maybe he’s not so bad.”
    “What?”
    “Oh, not like Jock,” Michael said quickly. “But he kind of makes me feel safe. Like Schwarzenegger in the
Terminator
movie I saw at Dad’s.”
    Trust Dave to show Michael movies on the taboo list for him. “Royd’s not some futuristic Terminator.” It was odd that he’d picked up on the lethal violence inherent in Royd, but perhaps it wasn’t a bad thing that anything or anyone could give him a sense of security at this time. “But you can feel safe with him. He used to be a SEAL and he knows what he’s doing.”
    “A SEAL?”
    She could see that had impressed him. Maybe too much. “Sit down and try to rest. We’ve had quite an evening.”
    Michael shook his head. “You sit down.” He went toward the bathroom. “Mr. Royd said you should have some water.”
    “Mr. Royd is an—” She stopped. Keeping Michael busy and in a protective mode was healthy. It would stop him from thinking of the past few hours. She dropped down in the occasional chair by the bed. “Thanks. That would be good.”
    He handed her the glass of water and sat down on the bed. “You’re welcome.” His expression was grave. “And Mr. Royd was right. I need to know what’s going on so I can help, Mom.”
    Jesus, he didn’t sound like a child at all.
    But that didn’t mean she should burden him with this horror.
    But the horror had come knocking on his door again. If she didn’t tell him