Before I Go: A dark and tense psychological crime thriller. by Marie Reyes (the false prince series txt) 📗

into a trance. It could quite possibly have been the only time when his mind wasn’t in overdrive. His mouth hung open as he rhythmically rotated the brush across his teeth. A dog barking from outside ruined the peaceful moment and Michael spat into the sink before looking at the man staring back at him in the mirror. Pallid skin, Tired. No matter how much time he spent in the sun, he could never quite get a tan, or even the hint of a healthy glow.

A selection of T-shirts lay strewn on the bed, so he did the sniff test, deeming which ones he could wear again, and tossing the rest in the corner before heading to Josie’s room. He knocked gently and waited on the landing, listening for signs of life. Nothing. He rapped louder on the door.  Maybe she was out on the streets already, showing Tanya’s photo around.

As he plodded downstairs that same person sat on the couch from when he first checked in and he wondered if they ever left that spot. Julio sat behind the front desk on his phone until he noticed Michael. “Breakfast is in the kitchen still,” he called. “Normally I clear everything away at ten, but thought you might need some food. Late riser, huh?”

“Thank you.” Michael didn’t even know the hotel had a kitchen and walked past the front desk to a dim corridor. There was a dorm room on each side with rickety wooden bunk beds, but no guests. Only one bed had a bag on it to signal it was taken.  He made a mental note as he walked past a small utility room with a washing machine that it was definitely time to tackle some laundry.

At the bottom of the corridor to his left, Josie navigated a cramped room. There was a microwave caked in dry splatters of red and brown, a small burner, and a sink stacked high with mismatched kitchenware. It looked like a giant game of Jenga, and the pile was about to collapse any minute. A string of shriveled, dry chilies hung from a hook on the wall that looked like they could have been there for centuries.

Josie grabbed a slice of bread, dropping crumbs on the side, and spread a thick layer of peanut butter and jelly onto it before dropping it onto a flimsy plastic plate. “Afternoon,” she said, licking a stray piece of peanut butter off of her finger.

“Hey there. I thought you’d left without me. So what’s the plan today?”

It wasn’t until he saw the jug of apple and orange juice that he realized how thirsty he was. He went for one of each, taking a small plastic cup from the side.

“I found out where the taxi company office is. There is only one company operating here, so shouldn’t take long. Then I thought we could do something nice. Get out of here for a bit.”

“Sounds good.”

“You’re not eating?”

“I had our leftovers late last night. Not really hungry yet. I still have a stockpile of Cheetos in the room.”

“So healthy. Here. I refuse to let you live off the dream diet of an eight-year-old.” She passed him an apple.

“It’s not like your breakfast is the epitome of health. You have any idea how much sugar is in that jelly… and the white bread?”

“Quit whining and eat. We have work to do.” She tore her sandwich in half and shoveled half of it down, barely chewing.

“So did she describe the taxi at all, when your dad spoke to her?”

“Not really. The police said it would be almost impossible to trace. Apparently there are loads of unlicensed drivers operating in the area.”

“It’s scary. All it takes is being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“She shouldn’t have got in there alone.” Josie muttered, clutching a mug of coffee as she stared into the distance.

Chapter Twelve

The small grey concrete building looked more like an auto-repair than a taxi company. A metal rack full of car parts ran across one side of the garage and three yellow and white taxis sat parked in the lot. The reek of diesel made Michael feel a little light-headed.

There was a small office for tourists to book trips and car services. A short-stocky man, spilling out of his jeans, stepped out before they could even make it inside. “Taxi?” he asked, rubbing excess motor oil off his hands onto his white t-shirt.

Josie went through her routine and showed him the picture of Tanya, and the man glanced at it for a split second, a look of disinterest on his face. Josie then pulled out another slip of paper. A partial license plate number. “You have any cars with this plate? Placa.” The man shrugged at her. “Do you have records? Registro’s?”

He waved her off as if she were an annoying insect, turning to go back inside.

“I pay.” She reached for her wallet, but the man walked straight back into the building. She stood there and Michael could almost see the inner workings of her brain through her eyes. Chugging away, thinking of next steps. A cab pulled up next door, and she went straight over to it before the driver even had time to park up. She went straight into Spanish and Michael took a step back. He felt like an extra limb, surplus to requirements, and stood aimlessly while Josie did her thing, a part of him wondering how the hell he had ended up here. What the hell was he doing?

“Well, that was a bust,” Josie said, walking past him. He followed her and watched as she paced the sidewalk.

“So, what now?”

***

They sat in the hotel communal area, Josie’s laptop open on the table. “This Wi-Fi sucks.” She mashed the keys out of frustration.

“Why don’t you tell me more about yourself? I feel like I know more about your sister than I do about you.” He twirled a loose thread of fabric on the couch, incapable of keeping his hands still.

“That