“He must have said something.”
“The only thing he said was that Jenny was on a leave of absence,” Quinn told her. Though it was more what the congressman hadn’t said that had got Quinn’s attention. “But I didn’t have all that much time before our friends saw me.”
Tasha was silent for several moments.
“Those men,” she finally said. “What do you think they would have done if they caught us?”
“Taken us for a ride. Asked us a few questions,” Quinn said. “Then killed us.”
Tasha grew noticeably quiet.
CHAPTER
TASHA TOLD QUINN SHE WAS STAYING AT A SMALL
motel about twenty minutes south of the District, in Virginia. Quinn’s plan was to dump her there. What she did after that was her problem. He was going to head back to Los Angeles and use other methods to figure out where Jenny might have gone. There was, though, one person he wanted to talk to before he left the area.
About halfway to Tasha’s motel, Quinn pulled out his phone and
called Nate. “I need you to get me an address,” he told his apprentice. “Sure. Name?” “Derek Blackmoore.” “Anything else you can give me?” “He should be in the D.C. area. At least he was last time I heard.” “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.” “Nate, he’s not going to be listed in any phone book.” “I didn’t expect he would be.” “And I need you to text the address to me in the next thirty min
utes.” “Of course you do,” Nate said. Tasha guided Quinn toward the motel. As they approached it, Quinn could see it was one of those holdovers from the seventies. An ugly box of a place, forty rooms stuffed into a single two- story building. It was called the Lambert Motor Hotel, and surprisingly seemed to be a pretty busy place. Most of the parking spots surrounding it were full.
“I’m on the ground floor,” she said. “Room eighteen, near the back.”
Quinn turned into the lot and drove slowly toward the rear.
“You can just drop me off he—”
Quinn glanced over at her. She was staring across him toward the building. The look on her face was both confused and scared. He turned to see what she was looking at.
The door to room 18 was wide open.
Tasha started to open the passenger door.
“No,” he said. “Get down.”
“What?”
“Just get down. Don’t let anyone see you.”
Tasha slumped down in her seat as Quinn drove past her room, then made a slow U-turn and headed back out to the street. Half a block down, he pulled the rental to the curb and turned off the engine.
“Does anyone else know where you’re staying?”
“No,” she said. “I...Oh my God.”
“What?”
“When I called my friend in Houston to get me into the show, he gave me a number to call to set up the details.” She looked at Quinn. “I used the phone in my room to make the call.”
“So someone at the exhibit could have figured out where you were staying.”
“That was stupid,” she said, rubbing a hand over her face. She then glanced back toward the motel. “Do you think it’s them?”
“Maybe the maid just forgot to close the door.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?”
Quinn leaned over in her direction, then reached down toward her legs.
“What are you doing?” she asked, pulling back slightly.
He said nothing as he slipped his hand under the seat, then pulled out the SIG.
Tasha’s eyes grew wide, but she said nothing.
Quinn opened his door and climbed out. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Instead of heading straight for her room, Quinn made his way along the back of the motel using a small service walkway. There were windows along the wall, but most had their curtains closed, including the window to Tasha’s room.
As he neared the end of the building, his phone emitted two short vibrations, telling him he’d received a text message. He pulled it out and took a look.
It was from Nate. An address.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket.
