on the trail…

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Gage picked up the trail again at the third motel he checked.

It was easy enough getting rid of the night manager. A hit of chloroform and he had the run of the office.

Gage was grateful for Dean's old-fashioned sense of chivalry. After the attack at the last motel, Dean had probably figured that Lisa wouldn't like to stay in another seedy, rundown hole on the side of the road. He'd chosen a place a rung above the rat traps that Hunters were used to staying in.

Nicer place = more security = credit card and ID check.

Dean was in the system.

Gage was perfectly aware that Dean would probably have a stash of ready credit cards at hand, none of them bearing his own name. The time frame, and the fact that Dean had booked out a room with two single-sleepers, gave him the name he wanted: Tom Rosenbaum.

Back in his car, Gage fired up his laptop. Tagging onto an NCAP tracking system, Gage entered the name and card number. It was a long shot, but Gage was hoping to get lucky. Here, again, he was counting on human nature.

Like most Hunters, Dean would change up his ID, as well as his credit card for every job. In the middle of a getaway, though, the first instinct is to do what any other person would do, slip the credit card back into it's slot in your wallet. And then… whip it out when you need to use it again.

A couple of minutes later he got a hit. A rest stop outside Scottsbluff Nebraska. They'd stopped there for gas.

Gage had a direction, and felt the curious stirring of a thrill at the thought.

This was his biggest Hunt yet. Dean Winchester. Absolute number one on the hit list of every demon in hell and elsewhere. With a bullet.

This score was going to make him Midas rich…

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