He waits for a beat. “That isn’t why I pulled you over.”
“Oh…” I wrack my brain, trying to think of something I might have done wrong. I mean, other than murdering a man a few hours ago. “I… I don’t understand.”
The officer nods at the back of my vehicle. “You got a busted tail light. On the left.”
Is that it? Thank God. “Do I?”
“Yeah.” He frowns at me. “When it’s this dark out, a broken tail light can kill you. A car might be behind you and just see the one light, and maybe they think you’re a motorcycle or who knows what. I’ve seen some nasty accidents happen because of broken tail lights. I won’t give you a ticket, but you need to get it fixed as soon as possible. For your own safety.”
“Oh…” I nod soberly. “I’ll be sure to take care of it right away.”
“Are you almost at your friend’s house?”
“Yes. Just about.”
He hands me back my driver’s license. “You need to get off the road—soon. With this storm and now your busted tail light… It’s an accident waiting to happen.”
“Right. I understand.”
“The next time I see you, I don’t want it to be in a body bag.”
I can’t help but think of Derek. Have they discovered him yet? No, they couldn’t have. If they had, this police officer wouldn’t be letting me go.
I almost can’t believe it when the officer walks back to his car. He didn’t arrest me. I’m still free. But for how long?
I pull back onto the road, recognizing that the first chance I’ve got, I have to change course and go in a completely different direction. Once they start searching for me, the officer will remember me. He’ll remember what direction I was headed in.
But for now, I’ve got a bigger problem. If I keep driving around with this broken tail light, I’ll get pulled over again. The next time I might not be so lucky. I’ve got to get off the road. Just for the night, and then I can start driving again in the morning. Nobody will notice a broken tail light in the daytime.
And that’s when I see the sign on the side of the road. It’s so tiny that I almost miss it. And that’s perfect.
The Baxter Motel. That’s where I’ll spend the night, then tomorrow bright and early, I’ll get back on the road.
Chapter 7
If I were looking for a quiet, isolated place to spend the night, I couldn’t find anything more quiet and isolated than the Baxter Motel. I turn off the highway, and an almost invisible sign directs me to the motel. I have to drive down a nearly unpaved road until I see the weather-worn sign in front of a beat up old two-story house with a crumbling porch. The roof looks warped, almost sunken, like it could collapse at any moment. There’s a dim light shining in one of the upstairs windows, and if there weren’t, I would think the motel was abandoned.
Even though it’s isolated, I feel nervous about parking my car in plain sight. After all, that officer pulled me over only twenty minutes away from here.
Next to the motel, there’s another small one-story building. There’s a sign hanging from it that says Rosalie’s Diner in peeling paint. But this establishment is clearly closed. It’s dark inside and all the windows and doors are boarded up. I circle around the diner, and I park behind it, concealed by a large green garbage bin.
There. That should at least be good enough for the night.
I lift my bag out of the car and hoof it through the rain and sleet to the motel. My sneakers squish into a puddle and after about thirty seconds, I’m drenched. I regret not parking closer, but I wouldn’t have been able to sleep at night if my car were in plain sight.
The front door of the Baxter motel is made of rotting wood that’s dark with moisture. There’s also a screen door loosely attached to the hinges that smacks me in the shoulder before I shove it out of the way. The knob feels ice cold to touch, and it sticks when I try to turn it. But after a second, it gives way and then I’m inside.
The inside of the motel isn’t much warmer than outside, but at least it’s dry. Well, mostly. There’s water dripping from the ceiling, leaving a small puddle next to me. A splintered wooden counter is in the back of the room, but nobody’s behind it. A single lightbulb hangs from the ceiling, and as I stand there, the light flickers.
“Hello?” I call out.
No answer.
I take a few steps forward. All I can hear is the dripping of the water coming from the ceiling. The motel feels empty, but the lights are on. And I saw that light on upstairs as well.