this.”
Hunter took a deep breath, lined the target up with the front and back sights at the top of the gun, then slowly pulled the trigger by squeezing her entire fist into a ball and shot. The deafening sound bounced off the trees and more birds took flight.
She lowered the handgun, unable to believe her eyes.
The middle of the playing card had been pierced, dead center.
A smile spread across Hunter’s face.
She finally felt ready.
* * *
The manager’s office of the Super 8 motel smelled like mildew, stale cigarettes, and burnt coffee. Despite the clear blue skies outside, the office was somehow dark and gloomy, particles of dust floated, dancing in the low beams of light. The room reminded Sarah of her parents’ house, sadly. You never know how bad you have it ‘til you leave home , she thought, while waiting for the manager to return with the keys to room #201.
What a dismal place. Sarah tapped a bobble-head raccoon that sat, collecting dust, on the counter. It barely moved in response, as though even the bobble-head was depressed by the lack of light.
Sarah lifted the curtain back from the window. Linden was still in the passenger’s seat of her car, ruining her investigation. All of a sudden Linden cared so much about a case. It was infuriating, but Sarah had ways of making use of him if he really had had a change of heart and felt motivated to get to the bottom of all this. It would take energy and ingenuity, but Sarah could pull it off. The trick would be to focus him on tasks that would put her at an advantage, and distract him away from these blood thirsty notions that Hunter Mann was a burgeoning serial killer.
Christ, he must be watching way too much TV to have developed a theory like that.
“Far as I know, she’s still in there with the guy,” said the motel manager when he returned with the key.
“What guy?” asked Sarah.
“The guy who wanted to pay cash,” he said, not answering her question in any helpful way, shape, or form. “I didn’t let them. You know kids today. When it’s cash, they trash.”
“Is that a thing?” she asked.
He glared at her while lowering his chin to his chest in preparation to glance down at the key, checking to see he had the correct one.
“Lead the way,” said Sarah.
“Are they dangerous?” he asked, returning his gaze to her.
“No,” she said. “No more dangerous than you or I would be if we were being hunted.”
Her answer seemed to confuse the manager, but he led her out of the office anyway, and up the stairs at the far side of the motel.
Sarah was surprised to discover her heart was pounding as she waited with the motel manager outside of #201.
There was no response to the manager’s loud knock, so he keyed into the motel room. Sarah sighed in both relief and disappointment to find the room empty.
“Sorry, Lady,” said the motel manager. “You must’ve just missed them. I booked them in at eleven this morning. I thought for sure they’d sleep through ‘til dark.”
“It’s okay. Thanks for your help,” she said, but instead of turning back towards the stairs, Sarah entered the room. “Do you mind if I have a look around?”
“Take your time,” he said, leaving her.
Sarah paced slowly through the room.
Hunter took a deep breath, lined the target up with the front and back sights at the top of the gun, then slowly pulled the trigger by squeezing her entire fist into a ball and shot. The deafening sound bounced off the trees and more birds took flight.
She lowered the handgun, unable to believe her eyes.
The middle of the playing card had been pierced, dead center.
A smile spread across Hunter’s face.
She finally felt ready.
* * *
The manager’s office of the Super 8 motel smelled like mildew, stale cigarettes, and burnt coffee. Despite the clear blue skies outside, the office was somehow dark and gloomy, particles of dust floated, dancing in the low beams of light. The room reminded Sarah of her parents’ house, sadly. You never know how bad you have it ‘til you leave home , she thought, while waiting for the manager to return with the keys to room #201.
What a dismal place. Sarah tapped a bobble-head raccoon that sat, collecting dust, on the counter. It barely moved in response, as though even the bobble-head was depressed by the lack of light.
Sarah lifted the curtain back from the window. Linden was still in the passenger’s seat of her car, ruining her investigation. All of a sudden Linden cared so much about a case. It was infuriating, but Sarah had ways of making use of him if he really had had a change of heart and felt motivated to get to the bottom of all this. It would take energy and ingenuity, but Sarah could pull it off. The trick would be to focus him on tasks that would put her at an advantage, and distract him away from these blood thirsty notions that Hunter Mann was a burgeoning serial killer.
Christ, he must be watching way too much TV to have developed a theory like that.
“Far as I know, she’s still in there with the guy,” said the motel manager when he returned with the key.
“What guy?” asked Sarah.
“The guy who wanted to pay cash,” he said, not answering her question in any helpful way, shape, or form. “I didn’t let them. You know kids today. When it’s cash, they trash.”
“Is that a thing?” she asked.
He glared at her while lowering his chin to his chest in preparation to glance down at the key, checking to see he had the correct one.
“Lead the way,” said Sarah.
“Are they dangerous?” he asked, returning his gaze to her.
“No,” she said. “No more dangerous than you or I would be if we were being hunted.”
Her answer seemed to confuse the manager, but he led her out of the office anyway, and up the stairs at the far side of the motel.
Sarah was surprised to discover her heart was pounding as she waited with the motel manager outside of #201.
There was no response to the manager’s loud knock, so he keyed into the motel room. Sarah sighed in both relief and disappointment to find the room empty.
“Sorry, Lady,” said the motel manager. “You must’ve just missed them. I booked them in at eleven this morning. I thought for sure they’d sleep through ‘til dark.”
“It’s okay. Thanks for your help,” she said, but instead of turning back towards the stairs, Sarah entered the room. “Do you mind if I have a look around?”
“Take your time,” he said, leaving her.
Sarah paced slowly through the room.
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