“in Baltimore, along a street lined with check-cashing places, pawnshops, and bail bondsmen. The hotel was a two-story rectangle tucked between a corner thrift shop and an abandoned storefront. Its bricks had been painted white—only recently, from the fresh look of the paint—but dark streaks had begun to run down from the roof, which evidently was made from something that didn’t stay put during rain. The sign out front was missing the T and the L, so it said: VICKERY MO E UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT DA...ILY AND WEEKLY RATES It was the “daily and weekly rates” that drew Cole. He didn’t want anything that rented rooms by the hour. “The Vickery Moe,” read Sandor, as Cole pulled into the lumpy parking lot. “Oh, I like that.” “What’s this?” Gordo looked up at the dark streaks in disgust. “This is where we’re staying until you feed,” Cole told him. He felt quite calm, now that he’d lined up a reasonable plan of action. And if the kid thought the Vickery Moe was punishment for not feeding, that was fine with Cole.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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