He didn’t know where he was for a moment, and adrenaline jolted him to hyperalertness. He snatched the pistol from underneath the pillow and swung it toward the door, seeking whatever sound it was that had awakened him. There were voices outside the door. A man’s voice called out. Another answered. DeGroot’s finger tightened on the trigger. Then there was the sound of a car door opening and closing and an engine starting. He looked around the room at the rough wood paneling, the cheap prints on the wall, the simple furniture. It came back to him then. He was in a tourist motel. What he was hearing was probably nothing more than a family group coming back from a day’s outing. He relaxed and let the gun drop to his side. He was feeling better than he had in days. In his years of warfare, he’d learned how to make even a brief rest count, and the sudden energy boost when he woke up had him feeling sharp and on top of his game. He checked the time. It was late afternoon. By now, he might have a few responses to his posting.
