Unlikely, he thought. There were always black sedans around here. He returned to the hotel, dropped off his own pizza, then went to Meg’s room to deliver hers. Before he could knock on her door, he heard Killer growl. For a little dog, Killer could make some noise.
Meg opened the door, one foot holding back the dog. Her hair was gleaming wet, as dark as a raven’s wing. She smelled sweetly of soap, and for the first time, he realized what a beautiful woman she was.
He handed her the pizza.
Killer was at his feet, jumping up, begging for attention.
“All right, all right,” he told the dog, and stooped down to pet him.
“Were you in the hall a few minutes ago?” Meg asked, setting the pizza box on the foot of the room’s one bed.
“I just got back, put my pizza in my room and came here,” he said.
“Oh.”
“Oh, what?”
“Someone was in the hall a minute ago. Killer was growling.”
Matt laughed. They were both getting paranoid. “It’s a hotel,” he reminded her. “They rent rooms to other people, too.”
He felt a little awkward. Maybe it was because he’d just really noticed her looks. No, of course not; he’d known she was attractive before. But now...maybe he was just standing too close to her.
“Good night, Killer,” he said to the dog. “Meg, we have our meeting at nine. I think the RPD wanted it earlier, but they’re giving Kat and Will time to get here and meet up with our local counterparts, as well. So you can sleep in, but we need to leave at eight-thirty.”
“Gotcha.”
As he turned to leave, Killer whined.
“I guess he doesn’t want you to go,” Meg said.
“Hey, buddy.” He stooped to pet the dog again. “You can’t have us both, you know. And trust me, she’s much prettier.”
He stood, gave Meg a wave and left the room.
He was tired and ate his pizza quickly, downing it with a bottle of water he found in the room. He switched on the television. There had to be at least six local news stations and every one he turned to was talking about the DC killer who had now branched out into Richmond. He listened to a few of them carefully. The media didn’t know about the victims’ tongues being cut out, nor had they been given the information about the bodies having been slashed and stuffed with stones.
Tired, he started to drift off.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep but he roused slightly.
There were footsteps in the hallway.
Late-nighters returning? He sat halfway up; the footsteps passed by.
A second later, he heard the dog barking from down the hall.
Matt leaped out of bed, reached for his Glock and ran to the door. He stood to one side of it and threw it open, then stepped out into the hallway.
An elderly woman in a raincoat and a scarf was sliding a key card into a door. She noted Matt, his pajama pants and naked chest—he held the gun behind his back—and offered him a crooked smile and a wave. He waved and slipped back inside his room.
Footsteps in a hotel hallway and black sedans on the road.
Hell, he was getting paranoid.
Yet he lay awake and finally got up. It was 2:30 a.m. according to the clock radio beside his bed. He walked down the now-empty hallway, stopped in front of Meg’s door and tested the knob.
Killer didn’t bark this time. He whined. He knew it was Matt.
Matt started to knock, to make sure that everything was all right. Dumb idea. He’d just wake her up.
He headed back to his own room. He needed to sleep. This was a rough case, and whatever it took, they had to stop this man. Finding Lara Mayhew, dead or alive, might well be the key.
He locked and bolted his door and put his Glock on the bedside table. He could sleep for another few hours.
He did. When his alarm went off it caught him in a dream, a weird dream in which black sedans had taken on personas, like the friendly little cars in Pixar movies. But these sedans weren’t friendly. Their front lights were equipped with large, gleaming knives that went around the bulbs in a macabre fashion. Their grills were filled with sharp-looking teeth. And they were pelting down the street, apparently driverless, while he ran and ran—all the while knowing he couldn’t outrun a car.
“Whoa, no more pizza that late at night,” he told his tired reflection.
Then he stepped into the shower and forgot his dream, well aware that it was going to be a very long day.
7