Devon is usually against this type of tech since it’s easy to pick up the frequency if you’re close by, but there was no way to get around it. “I’m ready.”
In the earpiece, I hear Devon say, “Good to start. Be careful.” He got inside the building yesterday to hack into their system and is now working it from a van parked at the curb. He’ll have one eye on me and the other on the hotel’s security feed. The plan is to freeze the camera when an area I need to move through is empty, then he’ll unfreeze it after I’ve passed through. I’ll work my way through the hotel in stops and starts, invisible to the cameras above me.
The cleaning carts are pushed off to the side, where they wait for the graveyard shift to restock them, since all the rooms were cleaned hours ago. I grab the closest cart, shoving my black duffel into the space left for dirty linens, and call for an elevator.
“Elevator is empty. I’ll wait for the hall to clear before I open the doors.”
“Copy,” I say.
The doors open and I push the cart inside, pressing the button for the fifth floor. When the elevator doors open, I move the cart out into the hall.
“Hold there,” Devon says. “Amy has just gotten off the main elevator and is making her way to her room. We need her on that camera, so I’m not cutting it until she’s inside.”
I check my watch. “What’s taking her so long? She should have already made it in.”
My gaze bounces from one end of the hall to the other, praying no one decides to come out of their room right now. I don’t want one single person mentioning the presence of a maid with a cart on this floor at this time of day.
“She’s at her door. On her fifth try getting the key card in the slot.”
“Good grief,” I mumble.
“Okay, she’s inside. You are good to go.”
And I’m off, pushing the cart down the corridor then turning toward Amy’s room when I get to the main hall.
Skidding to a stop in front of her door, I rap on the door and yell, “Housekeeping!”
It’s less than a minute before Amy opens the door. I don’t give her a chance to say anything, I just shove the cart through the door, backing her up with it, then let the door swing shut behind me.
Chapter 23
Present Day
I arrive at the Westin hotel in downtown Atlanta right on time. Rachel is waiting for me in the lobby, although I can tell she isn’t happy I’ve cut it so close.
Since I was a no-show for the reservation made for me at the Candler Hotel, and I blew past the deadline set for me at the bank, I had to time my arrival just right.
“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it,” she says as I approach.
I spot the figure standing a few feet behind her. “I gave you my word I’d be here,” I tell her.
“Can I talk to you?” Ryan asks as he moves closer to us.
Rachel says, “He called me and said you ditched him.” I don’t miss the tone or the raised eyebrow, but I ignore it.
I look at Rachel. “Our appointment starts in a few minutes, right?”
Rachel glances at her watch then motions for me to follow her to the elevator. “Ryan, let us get through this and then we’ll figure the rest out, okay?”
She thinks we’re having a simple lovers’ quarrel. I don’t correct her.
Ryan drops down in a chair in the lobby and watches us until the elevator doors close.
When we reach our floor, I push Ryan from my mind and focus on the task ahead of me.
“How’d you pull this off?” I ask Rachel. I’m honestly amazed she was able to move the meeting from the police station to one of the meeting rooms at this hotel. She’s good, I have to give her that.
“We were unaware there was a warrant out, and we traveled all this way to answer their questions. We’re here in good faith to put an end to this misunderstanding, so a visit to the police station was asking for too much.”
I’m glad she’s on my side for this but having seen the video I know the police received, they probably went along with her request so they don’t spook me and risk me not showing.
“Remember,” she says as we march down a hall where the meeting rooms are located. “Do not answer anything unless I give you permission. Do not offer anything extra.”
I nod while she studies me. We’re stopped outside of a door labeled Room 3.
“I was also going to tell you not to let your feelings show, but you have that down pat.”
This actually gets a little smile out of me because God if she only knew.
She pushes open the door and I follow her inside. I was expecting a long table and chairs setup but this is cozier. It’s a small room with a couch and two oversize chairs grouped around a coffee table next to a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows with an incredible view of the Atlanta skyline. “The key here is that we’re cooperating and have nothing to hide,” she says moving toward the center of the room. She registers my surprise at the room and adds, “I liked the optics. How can anything bad happen in such a warm, inviting space?”
There’s a fresh pot of coffee and a plate of blueberry muffins in the center of the coffee table.
“You take that chair,” Rachel says, pointing to the one on the left of the couch. “And I’ll take this one. The detectives can snuggle together on the couch between us.”
I settle in while she drops her briefcase on the floor next to the table.
“Not going to lie, I’m feeling underprepared. We haven’t had a moment to talk about that day and how we are handling this.”
Leaning back in my chair, I cross my legs and say, “I’m going to need you to trust me and follow my lead.”
She watches me from across the coffee table and I know she has a ton of questions, but thankfully they remain unspoken. Before there’s any time for awkward silence, there’s a knock on the door.
“It’s your show,” Rachel says, then gets up to open the door, stepping aside so a man and a woman can enter the room. I stay in my spot, making them come to me for introductions and handshakes.
“I’m Detective Crofton and this is Detective West,” the man says once they are standing in front of me.
From her spot in front of the other chair, Rachel motions to the couch and invites them to have a seat. Detective West glances at the couch, then at Rachel, and finally at me. She’s realizing she won’t be able to look at us both at the same time.
They hesitate a few seconds but eventually take seats on the couch. It takes another minute or so of them repositioning themselves and trying to get comfortable before they seem ready to begin.
Detective West is a reed-thin white woman dressed in what has probably been her uniform of the last decade: white shirt, black blazer, black pants. A simple gold band on her left ring finger is the only piece of jewelry she’s wearing. She’s got those lines around her mouth that let me know she loves to pull on a cigarette. Detective Crofton is her exact opposite. He is a tall Black man and was probably a linebacker in his former life given his size. His shirt has a blue paisley pattern and the tight cinch of the belt holding his tan pants up shows he’s recently lost some weight around the waist. There’s a simple gold chain with a cross hanging around his neck. And the peek I got of his socks right before he sat down tells me he has a sense of humor. Cats riding unicorns on a pale pink background.
And then I wonder if this is a true representation of them.
Or are they like me? Hiding behind a mask.
Because I was deliberate when I dressed this morning, striving to show them the image of me I wanted them to see. Plain white tee with jeans. Zero makeup and hair pulled back in a ponytail. I look easily five years younger than I really am.
“Can I offer either of you some coffee? A muffin?” Rachel asks.