Trey juggled the pizza and his laptop as he let himself into his room, the strap of his duffle slung over one shoulder. He dumped the bag on the bed, put the other items on the table and double locked the doors, pulling the drapes tight over the one window. He'd noticed when he drove in the motel didn't seem to be even half full, unless most of the people were out raising hell in Connelly.
Yeah, right.
He turned on the television because he knew it was the first thing most people did when they hit their rooms. He needed to be appear as ordinary as possible. He set the volume low, opened up his laptop and munched on a slice of pizza while he waited for the machine to boot up. The information he'd uncovered so far about Bennett Global and what he'd taken to calling the "undercover accounts
