He didn’t look at the receipt. He was looking at the key in his hand. Turning it over. Running his thumb along the wooden tag.
Ezoic
“That’s impossible,” he whispered.
I was too tired to argue.
“Look,” I said. “I don’t care. Really. Can we just get another room? Any room. Seventeen. Twelve. Whatever you’ve got.”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he turned and looked at the security monitor mounted on the wall behind him. A little black-and-white screen split into four boxes. Four camera views. The parking lot. The front of the office. The west hallway.
And the fourth box.
I couldn’t see what was in the fourth box from where I was standing. The angle was wrong. But I saw the clerk look at it.
Ezoic
And I saw his face change.
He reached beneath the counter and pressed something.
I heard a click.
