CHAPTER ELEVEN
Line Six Inn found itself smack dab between a truck stop and a chain fast food restaurant. Grease, cheap beef, and diesel fuel wafted on the air over the small, single-story structure—the large wooden sign boasting fading white letters above reception.
Gray doors settled the dusty, white walls. And Dakota spotted where two cops were lounging by room 132 as Marcus pulled into a parking spot.
Dakota examined the dusty, gray doors of the motel, her eyes skipping. What she had taken for a single-story structure, proved to be more than met the eye. Sections of the motel had railings which led up to a second level. The different, protruding second story gave the roadside motel a look like castle battlements.
As Marcus pulled their borrowed vehicle to a stop, put it in park and
