Page 26 of His Road Dog

Chapter 9

Nicole

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THE WIND BLEW IN THEopen windows of the car. Nicole flattened her hand and held it in the air current. Maybe it was time to move on.

The police would soon tell her she was free to go. Hopefully, they'd catch Roy's killer between now and then.

"You're in a doozy of a mood." Kristi turned down the radio. "Want to talk?"

"Not much to say." She sighed. "The walk down the mountain tired me out."

It'd taken her forty minutes to walk the road from Priest's house to the interstate where Kristi had picked her up after she'd called for a ride. She wasn't going to stay at his house and try and talk through their argument.

She also wasn't going to let any man treat her the way he had.

The weird thing was Priest had treated her like a toy he could throw away. No man had ever done that before. She would've accepted fake politeness over rudeness and lack of respect.

"What do you think about me working two or three days a week?" she asked.

Kristi flipped her turn signal on and pulled onto the main street. "You know I'm okay with you working more. Do you think you can build your stable of clients up to make it worth your time?"

"Probably." She pulled her hand into the car. "I don't want to get their hopes up that I'm staying, though."

"I wish you wouldn't plan on moving. I love having you at work."

"I'm only thinking about leaving. I'm not sure what I want to do." She pointed up the road. "There's the place."

"I don't see why you won't accept my invite to stay at my house." Kristi pulled into the parking lot and leaned forward, looking at the single row of motel rooms. "This is mainly a place where truckers spend the night while they're on the road."

"It'll do. I don't need much."

She'd learned that other people's opinions often messed with her moods when they were pressed on her. It wasn't all in her head, either. She'd stayed at a safe shelter full of cots for those who found themselves needing a roof over their head. Her visit only lasted two weeks before the church ladies who ran the charity made her feel guilty for how she acted.

That's why she got a kick out of hearing Michael go by the name of Priest. The last time a priest came around the shelter, he'd turned into a dirty ol' goat—which entertained her immensely until the ladies told her to leave.

She got out of the car, opened up the back door, and removed her suitcase and bag. It'd taken some strategic packing to eliminate one of her bags. Even then, she probably lost five pounds lugging everything down the road off the mountain.

"Thanks again." She puckered her lips and blew a kiss. "I'll see you Saturday."

"Call if you need me."

"I will." She closed the door and trudged her way to the door with the office sign hanging above it.

Dropping her belongings on the sidewalk near the building, she went inside. A young man lifted his head from the video game he played on the small television on the desk and set the controller aside.

"Ma'am." He approached the counter. "C-can I help you?"

"You sure can." She smiled. "Your sign out front shows you have a vacant room. I'd like to rent it."

"Yes, ma'am." He fumbled, turning the pages in the registry book. "Room five. Twelve dollars a night."

"Twelve?"

He nodded. "We don't have room service or a restaurant or anything like that. But if you need towels, you can call the office, and I can bring you one right away."

Amazed that she'd found a cheap room, she couldn't be picky. Sure, the last motel she'd stayed at was a lot nicer and had a maid, but Roy had paid her bill. The less money she spent, the more she could save for when the police were done with their investigation, and she could leave.

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