The Man Who Never Looked Away novel Chapter 114

staring out the window. Penbrook's vibrant nightlife blurred past the glass, the neon signs bleeding into streaks of bright color. It was beautiful, but it had nothing to do with her.

She just wanted a place to hide. No looking, no listening, no thinking.

It was past midnight when the bus finally pulled into the station.

Dragging her suitcase down the sidewalk, she found a cheap motel. The clerk barely glanced at her as he handed over a keycard. She didn't even have the energy to shower; she just collapsed face-first onto the mattress, refusing to move.

Being alone was a relief. She could leave all the lights blazing through the night, and nobody would complain.

After a while, she pulled the cheap comforter tight around her, curling into a tight ball.

She pretended she was a snail, brainless and safe inside her shell. Disconnected from the rest of the world.

She wouldn't mind living the rest of her life exactly like this.

***

"Sir, are you absolutely sure it's your dog that ran off?" the security guard asked, rewinding the footage at triple speed.

"Positive. Slipped out this evening," Charley lied smoothly, his eyes glued to the monitors. "Can you speed it up a bit?"

"Any faster and it'll just be a blur."

"I can track it."

Grumbling, the guard bumped it to five times the normal speed. Charley stood with his arms crossed, tracking three separate camera feeds simultaneously.

"Hold on. Stop." He pointed at the middle screen.

The guard hit pause. On the monitor, Garnett was walking out of the building, hand-in-hand with Sigrid.

Charley's eyes went dark.

"You see a dog in that frame?" the guard asked, squinting.

"Keep playing."

Walking past a cluttered corner convenience store, she noticed a handwritten 'Help Wanted' sign taped to the glass. Without really thinking about it, she walked in. "Is the manager around? Are you looking for a cashier? I need a job."

A middle-aged woman in a faded t-shirt emerged from the back, eyeing Lavinia from head to toe. "How old? Where from? Education?"

"Blossom City. Twenty-four. High school diploma."

"Two thousand two hundred a month. Take it or leave it."

"As long as it covers rent and food," Lavinia said.

The owner, Mrs. Potts, chuckled. "Oh, it'll cover it. I actually own the building upstairs. Got a small studio open on the fifth floor. I'll cut you a deal—nine hundred a month. Sound good?"

Lavinia didn't even hesitate. "Okay."

Mrs. Potts tossed her a calculator to test her math. Lavinia was fast and perfectly accurate.

"You're hired. You can start today," Mrs. Potts beamed.