* * *
Finch rounded the Impala and stepped up the slight grassy incline which separated the forecourt from the pavement. He walked down a few yards, staying clear of the hotel's line of sight. Satisfied that he was now free to cross unseen, he paused for a second as a lumbering lorry trundled by, heading toward the interstate. As it passed it swept up a mixture of fine grit and litter that whipped up around him, causing Finch to squint. Once it was safe, he crossed the road swiftly and waited for a brief second by an untidy looking bush that marked the end of the hotel's grounds. The car park had suddenly turned quite busy; two tanker drivers were having a good chat and setting the world to rights, whilst a rather rotund family were eagerly heading for the diner. Staying alongside the bus
