Four Lights Motel

Chapter 4

I left the church with my heart pounding violently against my ribs. I rushed to my car, Prior's words repeating in my head like a broken record.

He begged me to hide him...something was after him. William...William Withers.

Could it be possible that the cook, the simple cook who is bullied on a daily basis by a woman like Moira, turn out to be a killer?

The very same man that cooked up a hell of a burger? That owned a diner where thousands of people passed through? That knew him?

It would definitely be easy. Easy to gain the trust. Show a friendly face, ask them about their families. Kill them when they're alone.

But why?

My hands trembled with excitement (and fear) as I started the engine, and jumped when it roared into life. The car was cold, but I didn't feel it. My mind was racing a mile a minute, the words popping up in front of me. I could see the article now. I knew I couldn't get ahead of myself, not without knowing the facts. I knew I wasn't the detective, that I was not about to solve a two-year killing spree, but I could write an amazing article. It is the least I could do to show those victims that they are not forgotten. That their stories will be told. That the answers will be found. No matter how long it took. Douchebag Dean might even be impressed. Maybe not.

A man can dream.

    I raced back to the motel, making it back in time before the last light faded. The ghost of a crescent moon was beginning to appear in the darkening, cloudless sky above the motel. There seemed to be a few more lights flickering through the dark curtains that when I came, a few more cars in the parking lot with license plates from all over the country. Sara must be pleased to have a few more faces to serve.

    I reached the door to my room, excitement practically vibrating from my fingertips, making it hard to steady the keys. After a few seconds of fumbling, I turned the key and damn near jumped out of my skin.

    A hand grabbed my arm, the grip painfully tight. I could practically feel the nails beginning to bite into my flesh. I turned my head and came face to face with a young man with dirty blond hair, his grey eyes wide, his pupils incredibly dilated. I recognized him instantly as the man that Sera had been talking to in the morning, twirling her locks playfully over her finger as she touched his arm. He was in incredibly bad shape, and judging by the pupils, high as a kite.

    "Drink..." he said, his voice hoarse, panicked.

    "What? I don't have any—"

He yanked on my arm, pulling me closer, our noses almost touching. "Tea!" he hissed this time, his eyes threatening to pop out of their sockets, his words slurred. "Don't! D'you understand?" I tried to break free from his grip but he was unusually strong. I could smell cigarette smoke on his breath.

    "Stop it!" I snapped. "Listen buddy, you're high. You need to calm down. Go get some water, go back inside and take a cool shower."

    He gritted his teeth, erratically looking over his shoulder as if he expected someone to jump out at him. He was incredibly far gone.

    "No! Just don't...don't...GET OUT!" I didn't expect him to shout and I felt myself jump backwards. I wanted to calm him down, help the guy before he hurt himself but when I reached out to him, he turned around and ran as quickly (and unsteadily) as he could back to his room. I heard the door slam, and although it was very faint, I was pretty sure I heard him bolting the door.

Once inside my room, I managed to push the bizarre encounter out of my mind. I had more important things to focus on. Like calling Dean and let him know that things in the sleepy town of Brightbell took a very interesting turn and not to fill out my last pay check just yet.
Except my phone had died, so that was out. Scrambling to find my charger I dug through my duffle bag, dumping out the contents on the floor until I saw the white wire. I plugged it into the socket but I was unable to wait. I had to tell him this now. Will's name kept turning over and over in my head, my heart pounding loudly in my ears. Was he really the murderer? If he was the last man to see Dustin would he not have come forward to the cops? Unless he killed the boy, then there really was no reason to alert the authorities. Just hide in plain sight, the last place anyone ever looks. No cop would suspect the chef that provided them with food and their regular morning coffee.