minutes after three. I was still tired, but I was edgy, too, like something unpleasant and unavoidable was just around the corner. It was a very unsettling feeling, but one that had plagued me quite regularly for the past few months, only not quite as intensely. I knew after about thirty minutes that I wasn’t going to be getting any more sleep tonight so I got up to hit the road early.
Once I was dressed, I wasted no time packing my bag and heading to the lobby for check out. There was a young girl behind the desk this time. Though she looked bleary-eyed, she gave me a bright smile as I approached.
“How can I help you?”
“I’d like to check out please.”
“And so early, too,” she said pleasantly and waited for me to comment. When I didn’t, she continued. “Your room number?”
I handed her my key and told her my room number. When she punched the number into the computer, a frown came over her face. “Did you say ‘three-o-six’?”
“Yes.”
She typed the number in again and her frown deepened. “We don’t have anyone checked into that room.”
“Can you type in my name and see if it comes up that way?”
“I can try, but it should still be associated with that room number,” she said skeptically. “What’s your name? I’ll give it a try.”
“Carson Porter.”
She typed my name in the computer and still nothing came up. “Who checked you in?”
“Um, I don’t know his name, but he was an older man with glasses.”
“Glasses?”
“Yeah. And thinning brown hair,” I said, opting for that description rather than saying he had a hideous comb-over.
She pursed her glossy lips. “The thing is, I can’t think of one person who works here that wears glasses.”
Something tickled the back of my mind, like I was missing something, but I just couldn’t pin it down.
“Alright, well how can we work this out? Do you want to just check me in again or…?”
The girl looked left and right then leaned across the desk and whispered conspiratorially. “You know, it’s not your fault. And it’ll be a mountain of paperwork for me. Why don’t we just call it even? You can just consider it an early Christmas gift.”
I would’ve sounded like an ungrateful clod had I done anything more than just thank her and be on my way, so that’s what I did. Plus, far be it for me to cause her any extra work. That wouldn’t be very kind at all.
After stopping for a cup of coffee—something I was quickly becoming addicted to—along with a muffin, I turned toward the interstate ramp. By lunch time, I was well into the middle of Ohio. I pulled over on the highway to check the atlas once more before proceeding to Weston, the town where Byron Allsley practiced law.
It wasn’t hard to find and it was just before five o’clock when I turned in to park in front of the brick building that boasted a huge LEWIS, LEWIS & SCHMIDT sign.
I was a little confused by the empty lot. I got out and walked to the door, looking as I went for an employee parking lot that I might’ve missed. When I reached the door, the sign that was taped to the glass told me all I needed to know. CLOSED FOR CHRISTMAS, it read in large, bold print. Then, below it, in smaller letters, WILL REOPEN MONDAY, DEC 27. I realized then that my plan had a couple of fatal flaws. I had been so upset and desperate to get away the previous morning that I hadn’t even considered the weekend, let alone the holiday. It was Thursday, two days before Christmas, and apparently Mr. Allsley had given his employees a nice long holiday break.
Frustrated, I stomped back to the Camaro. I pulled my bag into the front seat and rifled through it, looking for the papers from Mr. Allsley. When I found them, I pulled out the cell phone I’d purchased at a gas station in Charleston, West Virginia and punched Mr. Allsley’s mobile number into it.
It rang and rang until a voice message began to play, informing me that I’d missed Mr. Allsley, but that if I left a message, he would surely return my call by the end of the day.
I left my name and new cell phone number, asking for Mr. Allsley to give me a call as soon as he could, then I hung up and sat back to consider my options. First of all, I