Chương 2
There had been Thomas’s wedding ring.
There had been dental confirmation.
There had been paperwork.
There had been a funeral with a closed casket.
There had been casseroles from women Margaret barely knew and a ridiculous number of lilies.
There had been a death certificate.
There had been five years.
Daniel Cross could not erase five years with one sentence in a hotel lobby.
Margaret turned to Emily.
“Call the police.”
Daniel moved.
Not toward Margaret.
Toward the doors.
The security guard intercepted him.
“Sir.”
Daniel stopped again.
His shoulders lowered.
“Fine.”
Emily picked up the phone.
Daniel looked at Margaret.
“But if you call them, don’t tell them about the key.”
Margaret almost laughed.
“Why?”
“Because Thomas told me not to trust anyone who asks about Room 317.”
Emily froze with the receiver near her ear.
Daniel nodded toward it.
“And because he specifically said the first person who tries to take that key from you is working for the people he’s hiding from.”
Margaret stared at him.
“You tried to take the envelope.”
“Yes.”
A strange silence followed.
Emily slowly lowered the phone.
Margaret said, “Well, that’s convenient.”
Daniel’s mouth tightened.
“I didn’t know the key was inside.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I expect you to stay alive long enough to decide what you believe.”
The security guard said, “Okay, that’s enough.”
His name tag read JASON.
He was perhaps twenty-six and had the uncomfortable expression of a man whose night had been expected to consist mainly of checking doors and helping drunk wedding guests locate elevators.
“Mr. Cross, I need you to sit down.”
Daniel obeyed.
That surprised everyone.
He sat in one of the lobby chairs and rested his hands openly on his knees.
Margaret looked at Emily.
“Police.”
Emily nodded.
This time Daniel did not object.
The officers arrived eleven minutes later.
Those eleven minutes felt longer than the previous five years.
Margaret sat opposite Daniel but refused the glass of water Emily brought her. She kept the envelope inside her jacket and the brass key in her closed fist.
She watched Daniel.
He watched the rain.
Once, he asked Emily whether the hotel kitchen was still open.
Emily stared at him.
“What?”
“I haven’t eaten since noon.”
Margaret almost became angry again, then discovered she did not have enough energy.
Jason stood near the entrance with his arms folded.
A couple returning from a late dinner came through the revolving door, dripping rainwater onto the marble. The woman complained about her shoes. Her husband tried to fold an umbrella and got sprayed in the face.
Ordinary life continued.
Margaret resented it.
At 11:48 p.m., two police officers entered.
Officer Laura Hernandez did most of the talking. Her partner, a broad man named Beck, spoke quietly with Jason and reviewed the lobby camera.
Hernandez listened to Margaret without interrupting.
That helped.
Then she listened to Daniel.
That did not.
Daniel gave his name, address, driver’s license and occupation. Private security consultant. Baltimore.
“Who hired you?” Hernandez asked.
“Thomas Collins.”
Margaret looked away.
Hernandez did not.
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“Where?”
“Baltimore.”
“You met him?”
“Yes.”
“You’re certain it was Thomas Collins?”
“I saw identification.”
Margaret turned back.
“Identification?”
Daniel glanced at her.
“A passport.”
“My husband’s passport expired before he died.”
“This one hadn’t.”
Margaret felt cold.
Hernandez said, “Where is Mr. Collins now?”
“I don’t know.”
“You just said he hired you.”
“He did.”
“And you lost him?”
“He stopped answering me yesterday.”
Margaret stood.
“I’m done.”
Hernandez lifted a hand. “Mrs. Collins—”
“No. He’s lying.”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly?”
“That’s why we’re asking questions.”
Margaret pointed toward Daniel. “Arrest him.”
“For what?”
“He attacked Emily.”
Emily cleared her throat.
“He reached for an envelope.”
“Exactly.”
Hernandez looked at Emily. “Did he touch you?”
“No.”
“Threaten you?”
“No.”
“Did he take anything?”
“No.”
Margaret sank back into the chair.
The practical dullness of law enforcement was almost offensive.
Daniel said, “I told Thomas this would happen.”
Margaret’s head snapped toward him.
Hernandez said, “Mr. Cross, I recommend you stop making comments unless I ask you a question.”
He nodded.
“Good recommendation.”
Hernandez asked Emily about Room 317.
Emily checked the system.
The room was registered to a man named Michael Foster.
Cash had not been used. The reservation had been made online with a prepaid card. Identification had been scanned at check-in.
“Can we see the scan?” Hernandez asked.
Emily opened the record.
Margaret stood without realizing she had done it.
The photograph on the ID was Thomas.
Older.
Thinner.
Gray hair instead of brown.
But Thomas.
Margaret grabbed the counter.
Nobody spoke.
Hernandez leaned closer.
“Mrs. Collins?”
Margaret stared at the screen.
There was a small scar above his left eyebrow.
Thomas had gotten it when their daughter Hannah was nine. A kitchen cabinet door had been left open. He had stood up beneath it while unloading the dishwasher and bled so dramatically that Hannah thought he was dying.
Thomas had spent the next hour reassuring her while Margaret tried not to laugh.
The scar in the photograph was in the right place.
Margaret sat down.
“That’s him.”
Daniel closed his eyes briefly.
Emily whispered, “Jesus.”
Hernandez’s professional composure changed.
Not much.
Enough.
“Mr. Cross,” she said, “you and I are going to start over.”
They went upstairs.
Hernandez insisted Margaret remain in the lobby.
Margaret refused.
Hernandez refused harder.
For seven minutes Margaret argued with a police officer while Daniel watched. Finally Hernandez compromised: Margaret could come to the third floor but would remain behind the officers until the room had been cleared.
The elevator ride was unbearable.
Emily came too, carrying the hotel master key.
Daniel stood beside Beck.
Margaret watched the numbers illuminate.
2.
3.
The doors opened.
The corridor smelled faintly of carpet cleaner and someone’s takeout.
Room 317 was halfway down.
The door was closed.
Hernandez knocked.
“Police.”
Nothing.
She knocked again.
“Mr. Foster? Police.”
Silence.
Emily opened the door.
May you like
The officers entered first.
Thirty seconds later Hernandez called Margaret.
