Downtown

DOWNTOWN

I

On an outer edge of St. Charles, just before the downtown area thinned toward the outskirts, the flickering neon sign of the King’s Motel burned against the night. For Anne, cheap rooms were the motel’s prime selling point. She had almost two hundred dollars in cash left.

The mustached man behind the counter, whose name tag read Mike, pretended not to see her at first. She stood waiting for almost a minute before he raised his head to regard her for an expressionless moment.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“I need a room,” she said.

“How many nights?”

“One. For now.”

“Eight dollars.”

Anne lowered the green pack onto the floor and crouched to open it. She sorted through it until she came up with seven crumpled dollar bills, which she tossed onto the counter along with a handful of change. Mike blew audibly through his nostrils. He took the money and slid a key onto the counter.

“Room 26,” Mike said, and turned his attention elsewhere.

Anne took the key and exited