“Checkout is strictly at eleven o’clock,” Frank said.

“I’m already packed,” I said.

I walked out through the glass lobby doors without looking back at the long row of cheap motel rooms.

The big white moving van was already backing out of the Lakeview driveway when I pulled up to the curb.

The huge diesel engine idled loudly as the driver checked his wide side mirrors.

Dustin stood alone at the edge of the wet asphalt in a light gray tracksuit.

He held the frayed black strap of a single green canvas duffel bag over his right shoulder.