Jeff packed his gear and left the motel in the middle of the night before they realized he’d used a stolen credit card. That they hadn’t run the card because their terminal was down had been a piece of luck. It was no hardship leaving the card with them. Damn flea-pit wasn’t worth one-hundred dollars a night. He’d be glad to leave the stench of damp coming from the walls and the tobacco that had permeated the bedding, the peeling wallpaper, and the carpet.
From the motel, he grabbed a cab to the main street of the local town. After paying the driver cash, Jeff took a roundabout route and made frequent stops to study window displays. Finally, his meandering path took him toward the local travel interchange.
Rain tumbled from overhead, and the driving sleet cut through his flimsy jacket. T
