He carefully stepped around the stiffened body lying in the bathtub and took a shower. John dressed and gathered his belongings. This time he made sure he hadn’t left anything behind. He checked out online, the same way he had checked in. Nobody at that fleabag motel had actually seen his face since he arrived. It was time to move on, and it was unlikely he’d bother with anyone else. He was closing in on his final destination, and John laughed at the thoughts buzzing around in his mind.
With a final look through the room, he slung the backpack over his shoulder, locked the door at his back, and climbed into the Buick. The first thing on his agenda was to swap out that car with another.
John placed his backpack on the passenger seat and drove away. He’d park and wait at the far end of a grocery store parking lot. He had an idea that would work out perfectly. He’d wait for somebody to return to their car and fill their trunk with groceries. While they were preoccupied, he would sneak up behind them, give them a quick whack to the head, and take off in their car. He’d be long gone in a matter of minutes and back on the road.
Twenty minutes later, with the license plates removed from the Buick, John tapped his fingers on the steering wheel while he waited for the owner of the black Ford Focus parked directly in front of him to exit the grocery store and head to their vehicle. Being at the far end of the lot afforded him a certain amount of privacy to do what he needed. With the back of that car facing him and the trunk lid up, no parking lot cameras would catch his actions. He’d wait out the owner of the vehicle. Buying groceries couldn’t take more than an hour at most, and he’d drive away with a different car and a trunk load of food.
He perked up when he noticed a lone woman walking toward the Ford. She’d be easy to subdue. He’d toss her in the Buick and be gone in minutes. He slinked down in the seat when she got closer and popped the trunk. John peeked over the dash and watched as she filled the trunk with grocery bags. It was time to act. He opened the driver’s side door and was at her back in two strides. With a hard punch to her head, he knocked her out cold and quickly threw her in the Buick. He grabbed the backpack and the license plates, picked up the keys she had dropped to the pavement, and slammed the trunk lid. He was out of the parking lot in less than three minutes.
John turned right at the sign that read Oakwood Country Club. He followed the frontage road that led to the parking lot and counted the cars. He decided to take the risk. With his right arm over the seat and his head turned, he backed into a lone space far from the other cars. He quickly got to work switching out the plates. With that task complete, he buried the Ford’s plates under the trash in a garbage can nearby. He exited the lot and headed to Interstate 294 going north.