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container and turned on the machine, watching the briefcase get swollen by the giant metal monster.
     
      Back at my desk, I glanced at the familiar clock on the wall. Its glass face reflected down at me, holding me captive, incarcerated behind this desk for hours. How was I supposed to just sit here and wait after everything that had happened? It was only four at night. I had another three hours before the morning crew arrived, and my body was still brimming with ‘fight or flight’ hormones and the flight ones were winning the war with my mind. The urge to run raged inside of me like a powerful Ferrari engine waiting to take off. I pushed my hands through my hair and blew out a deep breath in an attempt to calm my shredded nerves. I shoved my literature novel aside and settled in for the torturous wait, wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into.
     

Chapter 5
     

     
    When Kathy Reynolds, the day clerk, finally showed up a little before seven a.m., I explained to her everything that had happened, except for the part about the briefcase, of course. I rubbed my temples and feigned tiredness, told her it had been a long crazy night and I just wanted to go home and crash on my bed. I asked her to inform Jerry of all the details and bring him up to speed. Truth was, I was anything but tired. I had a backpack full of adrenaline rubbing up against my back.
     
    Kathy was quite affected by the news. It was a highly unusual event after all. Even though I worked at a hotel that had long passed its glory days and we’d had our share of incidents, such as wild bachelor parties where young guys took sport in trashing the rooms, this was the first time someone had actually died at the Greymore, at least to my knowledge.
     
    With the most casual attitude I could muster, I grabbed my backpack stuffed with bills and slung it over my shoulder as I prepared to leave.
     
    “That looks heavy,” Kathy commented as she eyed the bulges.
     
    “Well, yeah, it’s all my school books. They are heavy as shit.” I gave a nonchalant laugh to cover my guilt and hurried out before the Spanish inquisition could begin.
     
    I flagged a cab and piled into the backseat, finally able to breathe again. I hadn’t realized I had been holding my breath as I hurried out of the building. Instinctively, I raised my hand to my brow, wiping away beads of sweat with the back of it. During the last couple of hours at work, I had run several ideas of what to do with the money through my mind again and again. Besides paying for Grammys treatments I wanted to pay of my student loans. But I couldn’t just go to the bank and pay off the loan in one go. People would ask questions. A record of that much money would raise a red flag with the FBI or the IRS for sure. I would need to pay it off slowly, a little bit at a time, so as not to raise suspicions.
     
    As soon as the bank opened, I would go there to rent a security deposit box. Tell them something like I needed it to safely store some jewelry my ‘late’ grandmother had left me. No one there would know that she was still very much alive. Thinking about Grammy made me realize that as much as I hated it, I would have to lie to her. I would have to tell her I had won the money in the lottery or something like that. That didn’t sit well with me. I had never lied to her before. I pushed out a quiet laugh. What the fuck, look at me. Here I was, all worried about lying to Grammy after I just lied to the police.
     
    Grammy was special, she was family, the one who raised me and cared for me when my own mother didn’t want me. The one who taught me right from wrong. Now I was behaving like her lessons had fallen on deaf ears. Being deceitful to her would be shameful, disloyal, rotten…the list of negative descriptors just went on.
     
    But I rationalized it didn’t matter. That old man didn’t need the money. I was sure he didn’t have anyone who needed it, like a wife, unless he was cheating on her