You Do What You Have To - 4

 

 

Resting his head against the wall, Micky stared off into space. Are you a good guy, Gary Freeman? Or a criminal? For sure, someone wants you dead. If the guy came back again, he must have been real pissed to find out you weren't a corpse. He probably thinks I helped you get away. I mean, damn, unless he was blind, he saw my clothes there, and yours. He'd have to be stupid not to put two and two together. If he took my wallet, like I thought earlier, figuring it was yours… I am so screwed if he did. There's no way I can go back to my place, or to… Shit!

 

Micky started to open his phone to call in to work then thought better of it. Not the calling in part, but using his own phone to do it. In fact, when he thought about it, he figured he'd better dump it somewhere instead. Have I seen too many cop shows? Could the shooter really track me down using my phone? Hell if I know, but I'm not taking any chances. He opened the back of the phone to take out the SIM card, because it had info on it he didn't want to lose. If it's not in the phone, they can't track me through it… I hope. With that done, he took the phone into the bathroom, set it on the floor and stomped on it until it was crushed. Gathering up the pieces, he tossed the smallest ones into the toilet and flushed, then wrapped the rest in a washcloth, intending to get rid of them in a Dumpster later.

 

Am I crazy, doing this? For all I know, the guy already traced me and is outside right now, waiting for me to open the door so he can take me out.

 

He scrubbed his hand over his face. "If he is," he said under his breath, "he's SOL, because I'm staying right here until…until my week is up. Yeah, right. I'll be a basket case by then, to say the least of starving to death."

 

That made him realize he really was hungry. Do I dare go down to the lobby again? There were a couple of vending machines with snacks. He smiled morosely. I guess I could survive on those cheese crackers with peanut butter.

 

Taking a deep breath, he went to the window, carefully inching the curtain back enough to peer down at the parking lot behind the motel. There were a few empty cars but that was it. Across the lot, there was a vacant alley then another parking lot. It looked safe enough for him to chance going to the lobby.

 

"Okay, okay, grow a pair," he chastised himself. "It's daytime. No one is going to take potshots at me. I'm being paranoid—and then some. Ruining a perfectly good phone because…of a damned nightmare." He shook his head and opened the door, checking the balcony before stepping out. "Empty. Duh. Just like the lot." For a moment he froze when a truck came down the alley. Then, disgusted at his cowardice, he made his way to the motel lobby.