Free Eyes of the Predator by Glenn Trust

invisible. The
oldest profession, and their only means of survival was illegal. They were
hidden and forgotten, and being forgotten, they were in even more peril and
subject to more abuse. To the families on their way to Florida vacations,
truckers, business people, and military convoys passing by Roydon on the
interstate, they were nonexistent. The world preferred it that way, not wanting
to know them or the dark emptiness of their lives or Roydon’s other secrets.
    The faded, old car pulled from
I-95 onto the exit ramp to Roydon. The brake lights flashed as the car stopped
at the stop sign at the top of the ramp. He looked both ways and then turned
left, crossing over the interstate.
    On the other side, he pulled the
car into the parking lot of one of the filthy motels. The lighted sign said
StarLite Motel, but only the ‘S’ and ‘r’ were lit. The other letters sizzled
electrically, but their neon, phosphor glow had long since dissipated. It
occurred to the driver that he had probably seen a StarLite motel in every town
he had ever visited, and he had visited quite a few on his runarounds. It must
have been a popular name in the fifties and sixties, dawn of the space age and
all.
    He had been in places like Roydon
before. He had a knack for finding them. Similar communities dotted the
American countryside. They were always filled with anonymous people and shady
visitors. In places like Roydon, questions were not asked, and names were not
recorded.
    The StarLite and Pete’s Place were
comfortable to him. He could move through the underworld of Roydon without fear
of prying questions or watching eyes. Averted gazes and deaf ears were the norm
in a place like Roydon.
    Reaching down, he checked the tie
wraps holding the girl’s wrists together and binding her to the frame under the
seat. Her position was awkward and uncomfortable. She was forced to lean over
on her side so that her head was not visible to passersby. The pleading eyes
peering at him above the duct taped mouth made him smile.
    “Just checking us in to the
honeymoon suite, dear.”
    The grin on his face made her
tremble uncontrollably.
    The lot of the motel was nearly
deserted. Grass and weeds crowded the gravel at the edges and grew up the rear
and sides of the old cinder block exterior. Two other cars were parked in front
of rooms. One near the small office, and the other midway down the length of
the motel. A fast food bag and several beer cans sat on the ground beside the
nearest car’s passenger door.
    Pushing a plastic button on the
metal frame of the office door, he heard an out of place doorbell chime.
Through the glass, he could see someone stirring in the small room behind the
desk. After a minute, a bleary-eyed man with bedhead stumbled out to the desk
pulling an overall strap over his shoulder. He bent slightly and peered through
the dirty glass. After several seconds of examination, he decided that it was
safe enough and reached down to press a button under the desk. A loud buzz
sounded and the office door unlocked.
    There was no greeting from
either.
    “Need a room,” the thin man said.
    “How long?”
    “For the night.”
    “All night?”
    He nodded, and motel man clerk
said, “Thirty-five.”
    He took cash from his front
pocket and counted out the bills. Motel man reached behind him for a key on an
old peg board.
    “At the other end of the
building.”
    The man shrugged and replaced the
key he had started to retrieve and handed over a different one.
    Taking the key, he turned and
walked through the door into the night. Motel man watched him through the
glass. Sitting behind the wheel, he waited. After a minute, the man dimmed the
lights and went back to the room behind the desk. It was not unusual for the
StarLite’s customers to want their privacy. Best to give the customers what
they wanted.
    When the motel desk clerk was out
of sight, he cranked the engine and drove slowly through the lot to the other
end of the building. He