He handed the desk clerk the driver’s license and the prepaid credit card. He looked down at his phone again while the young Latino man input the information into the hotel’s computer system. He didn’t want the clerk getting a good look at him, either.
“Is the address on your license current?” the clerk asked.
“Mm-hmm.”
“I see you’re local,” the guy said, a hint of question in his voice as he slid the driver’s license across the counter.
Fortunately, the Slasher had anticipated the question and had an excuse at the ready. “Renovating my house. Don’t want to live with the noise and dust.”
“I don’t blame you. I renovated the kitchen in my condo last year and it was a mess.”
The clerk ran his credit card through the system and handed it back over the counter along with a key card for his assigned room. “You’ll be in two-thirteen. Housekeeping comes once a week. There’s a continental breakfast in the lobby every day from six to nine. Wifi password is ‘welcomehome.’ Laundry room is on the ground floor next to the fitness center. If you need anything else, just call down.”
“Thanks.”
The Slasher slid the key card into his back pocket and the credit card into his wallet. Hiking his backpack up onto his shoulder, he headed to the elevator and rode up to his room on the second floor. The hotel was one of those long-term places you could stay for weeks at a time at a reasonable rate. He planned to hide out here until things settled down and he could safely show his face in public again.
He slid the key card into the slot and the lock released with a click. He stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind him. The room was a bare-bones studio, with a full-sized bed, one nightstand, a table with two chairs that served as both dinette table and desk, one arm chair, and a television. The kitchenette and bath were small, but sufficient for his needs.
After setting his backpack down on the bed, he went to the window and used the stick attached to the thick curtain to move it aside. The room looked out onto the parking lot and the highway frontage road beyond. Ugh. He wouldn’t have much fun watching traffic going by. Too bad he hadn’t thought to ask for a room with a view. But it was too late now. He didn’t want to go back down to the desk and make an issue of it, have to show his face again. Besides, if he turned his head to the right and put his face up against the glass, he could just make out the edge of the upper deck of the football stadium at TCU to the east. This room and this view would be his world for the next few weeks. He might as well get used to it.