Bed & Breakfast Bedlam - Abby L Vandiver Page 0,2
like me, weren’t on the prowl in their protected lands.
I wonder what kind of jail time federal trespassing carries? I let out a sigh.
Looked like my recognition wasn’t going to come from brilliant work in the field of Maya archaeology but from my stupid mistakes off the grid. This was going to ruin my reputation as an archaeologist. The small one that I had.
I looked up at the darkened sky and thanked God there was little moonlight. Darkness was a good cover. I spied the start of the dense bushes that lined the perimeter only a few yards away, then took one more look in the direction the guards had gone. After I felt I was clear, I fell flat on my belly and slithered across the dirt and patches of grass to the trees. I rolled over on my back once I reached them, I raised up my hand at the pale moon and said softly, “I will, in no way, shape, or form, ever break the law again. I absolutely and solemnly swear.”
Now to get out of Track Rock Gap and walk – nay – run the mile and a half down the road to where I had parked my car.
Chapter Two
Itza, Georgia
Early Thursday Morning, BGD
I had settled my bill at the small motel I had stayed first thing. After nearly getting caught trespassing the night before, I didn’t want to waste any time beating it out of town. Not that I thought they knew who I was or that they could find me. Still it made me a little nervous being so close to the memory of my illegal activities.
I headed out to the parking lot, knapsack over my shoulder, pulling my luggage behind me, I walked at a brisk pace. I slowed down as I passed the glass encased office. The door to the small room was open. Eyes straightforward, I wanted to appear calm – normal. I’d smile and wave if the clerk looked up at me. That’s when I heard “him.”
“Logan Dickerson,” he said. “You said her name is Logan Dickerson?”
I stopped dead in my tracks.
What the hey?
“That’s right. She came in last night. Covered in dirt,” the woman at the counter was talking. “She looked real suspicious like.”
My heart stopped. How did that woman see me come in? That little . . . Toothless . . . Old snoop. She had a big mouth. Telling this unknown man stuff about me. He could be a stalker. Someone out to kill me. I tried to peek through the door and get a better look at him.
Who was he anyway?
My heart started beating again – pounding – in my ears. It was so loud that I couldn’t hear a word they were saying. So I moved in closer, stilled myself, and tilting my head I listened.
“Last night you say?” he asked.
I couldn’t hear her answer. But she must have said, “Yes.”
“What does she look like?” he said.
Don’t tell him, big mouth. Don’t. Tell. Him.
“She’s black, like you. Shoulder length hair. Light skinned. Not skinny. Not fat.”
Crap.
“And how long has she been here?”
Was there no end to his questions?
“Two nights,” the woman blabbed.
Oh my goodness, I thought. She’s gotta be breaking some kind of privacy law telling that man all my business.
“Did she kill somebody?” Blabbermouth asked.
“No,” he said and chuckled.
“Then how come the FBI is looking for her?”
FBI? Oh my God! I’m going to jail.
“Where is she now?” he asked, seemingly ignoring her question.
“Don’t know. Still in her room I’m guessing ‘cause that’s her jeep over there. The white one.”
I looked over at my car.
Now I’m going to have to dump it.
“Yes. I know that’s her vehicle,” he said. “We have it on video. That’s how we found her.”
Video?
“Well, you better hurry up if’n you aim to catch her.”
“Why is that ma’am?” he asked.
“She paid up her bill right before you showed up. I think she’s getting ready to make a run for it.”
Oh, she was so right about that.
I couldn’t listen anymore. I had to get out of there. But I wasn’t sure if I should run for the car – the one they had on video – or just start running.
I saw a dumpster.
I could jump into it and hide.
I looked down at myself. I had on jeans, a navy Polo jacket with a white shell underneath and tennis shoes.
Definitely dumpster diving clothes.
I put my knapsack on the ground and took off my jacket. Using the sleeves, I tied it around my waist.