Him and Cameo both look at me, eyes wide, faces wrapped in fear. I do know the answer. I feel it pulsing in my heart. A place where I thought I had no feeling left.
We aren’t going to do anything.
“Brandon, find Adrian Popa, and the two of you are going to put your heads together on how we fix this,” I say. “Ruby, I need you to broadcast an evacuation order. Allyn should have done it by now and I don’t know why he hasn’t but I assume it’s because Drucker doesn’t want to spook the clientele. Fuck them both very much for that.” I turn back to Cameo. “You need to round up the staff and get them someplace safe. Some of them might be tempted to stay behind, but impress upon them that this evacuation order is for them too.”
I don’t tell them the rest of the plan. I can’t. Because it’s risky. I pat the bottle of pills in my pocket again, try to remember how many Tamworth said I was allowed to take in a day. That was yesterday, and so long ago. Three? Four max?
“Ready to broadcast,” Ruby says.
“Good.” I clap my hands. “Break.”
I move to the door, all charged up, ready to get this shit done, so when I yank it open and see Allyn standing there, reaching for the knob, I don’t even wait, I just duck down and dive past him, running for Atwood.
“Damn it, January!” he calls from behind me, which I know is because he does not like when perps make him run. Too bad. As I’m weaving through the pockets of people toting their luggage, Ruby’s announcement comes over the speaker.
Attention please. We kindly request that everyone check out of the hotel and proceed to Einstein to await pickup. Please remain calm, this is a nonemergency situation, but it is in the best interest for guests and staff to temporarily close the hotel.
Please remain calm.
It was cute of Ruby to say that, like it was going to work.
This sets off a panic, which sends a whole bunch of people running around in circles. I nearly barrel over an old man who wanders into my path, and manage to turn enough that I go sprawling instead of him. I hit the floor hard and skid across the surface, come to a stop against a desk.
There’s not supposed to be a desk here. I get a better look and it’s the concierge desk, but it’s unfinished, just raw wood. Like maybe it is just being moved in. I turn to check behind me, see Allyn coming up on me with a TEA agent next to him, and turn back to find the desk is gone.
I run again, being a little more watchful for what might be popping up in my path. When I reach Atwood there’s no elevator open, and all the lights indicate they’re on upper floors. I push into the stairwell and start hoofing it.
As I’m running I come across Mena, sauntering down the stairs. She’s wearing her work uniform—black slacks and a white blouse. I stop and she stops too and we stare at each other.
She says, “Almost there, my love.”
What?
There’s a slamming sound from behind me. The door opening, hurried footsteps.
I look up and Mena is gone.
As I climb the stairs I shake a bunch of pills out in my palm. I don’t bother to count them. I don’t think it matters anymore. I crunch them between my teeth, breaking the time-release coating, and nearly gag on the taste. Work my mouth full of spit and do my best to get the raw, chalky mess down my throat.
On the fifth floor there are a handful of people in the hallway and I duck and dodge around them until I get to the storage closet. As I’m punching in the code I hear Allyn burst out of the stairwell door, and I realize, shit, I don’t have Ruby. It probably got lost in all the confusion. I turn to look at Allyn just as the door lights up green. I duck in and slam it closed behind me.
* * *
—
When I open the door and duck into the hallway, it’s like I stepped into a frozen frame of film.
Allyn is closer than I thought. Another few seconds and he would have grabbed me. Him and his TEA guy are just hovering there. I touch Allyn’s arm. Gently at first, because I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I feel a little resistance, and then I manage to move it a couple of inches. No reaction from him.
My head seems okay. It doesn’t feel like it’s going to burst, which is a good sign, that the medication is working. I try to remember the side effects Tamworth warned me about. Irritability? Sure. Something like that. And my kidneys.
I move to room 526. Swipe the door and it opens. Electronics work here, and I guess Ruby got all my privileges back? Still, that’s weird. What are the rules? You can hurt and kill people. Does machinery still operate? What if you call the elevator and there’s already someone in it?
A not-right-now problem.
The smell hits me immediately. The dead smell. It’s not rot. I’ve smelled rotting bodies and this isn’t that. It’s more of the open body smell, like when you first open a package of raw beef. Blood and exposed skin.
Westin is lying on the bed, throat slit, blood still fresh. It’s been, what, more than a day?
At least he’s real. When I stand at the side of the bed, careful to not step in the pool of blood on the carpet, I can feel him when I touch his shoulder. My fingertip doesn’t continue through to the bedspread.
Which means I can finally examine the scene.
Not that forensics is my expertise. I know some basics. But I also know I don’t have to worry too much about crime scene preservation at this point, so no need for booties and a Tyvek suit. The first thing I do is walk a grid of the room, see if there’s anything I might have missed, or anything that’s in here and I wouldn’t have seen on the other side of the gateway. After covering the room back and forth, I’ve found nothing.
The medicinal taste in my mouth is making me sick, so I go to the sink in the bathroom. I twist the faucet but nothing comes out.
I’m struck by a funny thought. I feel like I should rush to get this done and get out of here, but besides the possible overdose, I really do have all the time in the world. So I guess I may as well use it productively and desecrate a body.
Rigor hasn’t set in, so I move Westin’s limbs, trying to get a better look at identifying marks or tattoos. It’s easy enough to maneuver him around. If time really is on pause in here, that makes me think he was killed outside, before being dragged in. It’s a small piece, but that’s all this is. Adding up small pieces until you get a look at the whole picture.
Next I pull out his wallet, flip through it. I’m surprised at how sparse the contents are. There’s some money, an ID card, a credit card, and that’s it. No health card, no coffee discount card, no receipts, none of the weird personal stuff people cram into their wallets. Could be he’s tidy and a minimalist, but his slightly unkempt hair and worn jeans and tattoos seem to speak against that narrative.
I take out the ID and turn it over a few times.