Adrian rubbed his jaw. “You can talk to Jim about that—when this is over, ’kay? Right now, my job is to keep you alive so that you can do the right thing when it comes along. I can’t tell you how important this is. Just do the right damn thing for once in your miserable existence.”
“Roger that,” Matthias said, turning away and taking off once more.
Chapter Forty-eight
Several blocks over from the Marriott, in the
The only call she’d made since she’d come in had been to Tony’s contact down in the CSI lab. She’d told him that she’d called Detective de la Cruz and made a statement about everything.
She’d been hoping the phone would ring at any minute with an update on the situation, but de la Cruz and his team were no doubt busy down at the hotel, searching an empty room.
Matthias was long gone—
“Psst.”
Shaking herself, she glanced across the aisle. Tony was leaning forward in his seat with a Ding Dong in his palm, offering the little wheel of chemical, chocolaty glory like it was a diamond. “You look like you could use this.”
“Thanks.” She forced a smile—and thought, What the hell. Maybe a load of sugar and preservatives would wake her up out of this stupor. “Not myself today.”
“I can tell. You’ve been sitting there staring at that screen for the last hour.”
“Lot of e-mail to read.”
“Then why haven’t you been reading it?”
Popping the seal on the Hostess bomb and biting into the thing, the outer shell flaked and sent bits and pieces into her lap. Before they melted and fused at the molecular level with the fabric of her slacks, she picked them off and flicked them into the wastepaper basket.
Man, Ding Dongs tasted delicious.
Better munching through chemistry.
“Hey, listen, Tony…I know we’ve never really talked career stuff, but do you have an endgame with this paper? I mean, is this the place where you see yourself staying for the rest of your working life?”
Her buddy shrugged. “I don’t think a lot about that shit. I just work on my articles, do my digging—I’m chill with the future. If this is all I have? I’m good.” He grabbed a Ho Ho for himself and stripped off its wrapper. “But I’ve been waiting for you to pull out.”
“From Caldwell? Really?”
“Yup.” He took a bite. “You’ve never settled in. Made the contacts. Kept them going.”
He was right, of course. And maybe that was why she hadn’t really accomplished as much as she’d wanted to in the last couple of years. Yes, Dick was a prick and a confirmed member of the old boy club, but it was possible she’d been hiding behind that as an excuse for phoning things in.
“I think I want to go back to New York City.” Actually, take out the “think,” she realized with a jolt. “It’s time.”
Her mother was okay; Mels was the one who needed direction. And she had a feeling that would be “south.”
“You’re a damn good reporter.” Tony took another bite. “And you’re under-utilized here—I think Dick knows it.”
“He and I have never gotten along.”
“That’s true of him and women, generally.” Tony crushed the wrapper and tossed it. “So, what are you going to do? You got any in’s down in Manhattan?”
Opening up her drawer, she took out a card she’d stuffed in there the day she’d moved to the desk. It read, PETER W. NEWCASTLE, FEATURES EDITOR—and had the iconic
Back in the day, she’d met Peter in and around Manhattan, and he was still at the
“Yeah, I think I do,” she murmured. “Hey, speaking of leaving, I have something I’d like to give you.”
“Lunch, I hope?”
She laughed a little. “Tragically, no.”
Kicking herself out of neutral, she opened up her e-file on all the research she’d done on those missing person cases. Staring at the words she’d typed, the tables she’d made, the references she’d listed, she couldn’t help thinking that all this was what she’d been doing before the storm had rolled through her life.
Memories of Matthias rose like spikes breaking through skin, the pain making her short of breath.
Closing her eyes briefly, she told herself to get a grip.
“It’s coming over e-mail,” she said gruffly.
Tony snagged a Twinkie and swiveled in the direction of his computer screen.
A moment later, she heard him mutter under his breath and then he turned back around to her. “This is… incredible. Absolutely incredible—I’ve never seen…How long have you been gathering all this? And what’s your angle? Who are your—wait, you aren’t turning this over to me exclusively, are you?”
Mels smiled sadly and nodded. “Think of it as my going away present. You’ve been so generous with me ever since I started. And maybe you can get further with it than I could.” She glanced at his screen, seeing all of the work she’d done. “I’ve been stalled out, but I have a feeling that it’s going to be in good hands with you. If anyone can crack the truth behind those disappearances, it’s you.”
As Tony’s eyes went even wider, she knew she’d done the right thing—for herself, for him…and most important, for all those missing boys out there, those souls that had somehow, inexplicably, disappeared into the Caldwell night.
Tony was going to find the answer. Somehow.
As Matthias strode down a carpeted hallway in the ground floor, employees-only part of the hotel, he walked with his head up and his arms swinging casually at his sides. Passing by open doors, he read the little plaques next to each one, and checked out various administrative, human resources, and accounting personnel, all of whom were working hard, talking on their phones, typing on their computers.
Busy, busy. Which was perfect if you were looking to infiltrate somewhere where you didn’t belong. The key was walking with purpose, like an appointment was waiting for you, and making eye contact in a casual, bored manner. That combination, even more than a suit and tie, was critical: You didn’t want to give any of the worker bees an excuse or opportunity to get off their asses and get in the way.
Thank God Adrian had agreed to hang in the lobby. Someone like him, with those piercings, was a billboard for Duck Out of Water in this situation.
As Matthias went along, he knew that sooner or later he was going to find what he was looking for: a vacant computer that was networked into the Marriott’s big database. And what do you know, bingo presented itself three doors down in the form of an empty office with a full desk setup: The little plaque detailing who belonged in there had been slid out of its holder, and there were no personal effects on the desk, no coat hanging in the corner—no window, either. Better solution than he’d expected.
Slipping inside and closing the door, he thought it would have helped if he’d had access to the resources of XOps—nothing like a badge with your picture and an IT title on it to smooth over any inquiries. As it was, all he had was a loaded gun with a silencer.
Sitting in the cushiony leather office chair, part of him was very clear that everyone was expendable, that if anybody walked in while he was working, he was going to shoot them and drag the body under the desk.
