…tracking 101…
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The blood had dried, coagulating into a darker, heavier goo that could only be scraped away. Once the swarm of flies covering the body took to the air in protest, Gage could see that maggots had already formed in the gaping hole in the kid's throat.
They'd get the chance to work their way through the decaying flesh. The raging apocalypse had stretched emergency services beyond breaking point. Not that this was an emergency. Nobody had even reported the body yet.
Gage returned to the counter, and checked the register. He found the second to last entry and made his way to room 7. The door was open.
Another body.
The window was smashed and there was evidence of a fight. So this is what had happened to their informant. At least the fool had been bright enough to call in Lisa Braeden's location before allowing Dean Winchester to carve open his windpipe.
Finding nothing else useful in the room, Gage approached the bank of telephones. The action had probably gone down the night before. Gage had a theory. He'd tracked a lot of people in his time – Hunters and civilians. Hunter's were smarter, in general, but people tended to follow certain instinctive principles.
For instance, when trying to hide, they would attempt to put as much distance between themselves and the perceived point of danger as possible. Following that logic, Gage should have checked the phonebook for motels at least fifty miles away.
He didn't do that. Because, Gage knew, Dean Winchester was smarter than that. He knew anyone tracking him would assume that he'd try to go far. Therefore, Dean would stay close.
Gage checked the listings for motels within a five mile radius instead. He was willing to bet his not inconsiderable fee that Dean had spent the night in one of them.
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