WHEN I WOKE UP I WAS CONFUSED. MY THOUGHTS were hazy and still twisted up in dreams of nightmares; it took me longer than it should have to realize where I was.
This room was too bland to belong to anyone but a motel. The bedside lamps bolted to the tables were a dead giveaway, as were the long drapes made from the same fabric as the bedspread, the rug, the seat upholstery, the toilet cover and the shower curtain. Generic watercolor prints of old presidents completed the scene.
I tried to remember how I got there, but nothing happened at first.
I did remember the sleek black car, the glass in the windows darker than those on a limousine. The engine purred