The police barged through the doors of the motels—startling the man behind the glass.
The lead officer—brown hair and same colour eyes walked up to the receptionist.
A bead of sweat already clear on the receptionist's face. "W— What can I— I help you with, officers?"
The cop pressed a phone against the screen showing an image of Caleb and Helene—in her strange form, getting into a cab.
The receptionist squinted his eyes to see the phone through the dim lighting before the officer barked. "Don't play games with me, where are they?"
He swallowed hard, throat dry. "I have no idea. And even if I did I couldn't just give the information of our guests without proper paperwork."
The cop slid the phone back into his pockets, the rest waiting observantly at the back.
He swirled a finger around the space. Then turned back to another officer. "How many health and safety violations do you think this place has, John?"
