“They do?”
“Minda aired the clip of Kirsten coming after you, and you’ve gained a following.” The commissioner glanced at her and shrugged. “Of course, some of the viewers might want you back so they can punish you.”
The thought made Lara feel weak. “I thought we were stopping at a store.”
“I forgot.”
“I need something in my stomach now.”
“We’ll be at the hotel in fifteen minutes. You can eat at the restaurant.”
“No, I can’t. Just find a grocery store.”
He gave her an odd look and headed for the nearest exit. “Do you have special dietary needs?”
“You could say that.”
The commissioner waited in the car while Lara ran into a Safeway and bought a dozen cans of ProFast. She didn’t particularly care for the drink, which was a little thick and bitter with vegetables, but it was a great source of nutrition, and the stash would come in handy. Morton watched her down a can as soon as she was back in the car.
“Didn’t they feed you in jail?”
“Nothing I could eat.”
“Are you allergic to gluten?”
“Let it go. We have more important things to talk about.”
“You’re right.” He drove past a homeless camping area in the corner of the parking lot and turned toward the expressway. “What else can we do to find this guy?”
“Get his photo to the security people at the arena and the hotel.”
“And if they spot him? What do we do? We can’t just have him arrested without reason.”
The commissioner’s lack of imagination irritated her. “I’ll tell the police I saw him talking to Kirsten. If they bring him in for questioning, they’ll run him through the databases and hopefully take a DNA sample. Maybe that’ll be enough to get him charged with her murder.”
“What if it’s not?”
Lara wanted to suggest they find the shooter and take him out of the picture, but she didn’t know how Morton would react-or if she could follow through. “If we locate him, we could plant something of Kirsten’s on him. If they hold him over for trial, it will at least get him off our backs.”
The commissioner pressed the accelerator, passing a line of cars on the right. Lara noticed the traffic was rather light in D.C. too. People had really cut back on driving…and everything else. She tried to ignore Morton’s weaving through traffic and stay focused on their problem.
“The court will probably evaluate him, and if he’s mentally ill and violent, he’ll be incarcerated.” She stared at Morton. “It’s hard to believe he picked you at random. You have to think about everyone who could have a grudge against you.”
“Believe me, I have, but I didn’t recognize the guy.” Morton made a sudden lane change. “I live near the Gauntlet and I need to stop at home for a minute.”
“Do you work out of the offices on the AmGo property?”
“No. I live in a nearby neighborhood that’s conveniently located. This whole area changed after the Reagan airport shut down.”
Lara reached in her bag for her notebook. “Describe the guy in detail for me. I only got a fleeting look.”
“Average height with pale collar-length hair and a thin mustache. He’s lean and probably in his thirties.”
“How was he dressed?”
“I don’t know. He had a gun. I didn’t notice his clothes.”
“You had to see something.”
“He wore black.”
“Any scars, tattoos, or other markings?” Lara looked up occasionally as they made turns. The homes were new with beige paint, brick accents, and large green lawns. Unlike other places in the city, few trees had survived the redevelopment.
“I don’t think so.” Morton touched his earpiece. “I need to call Minda.” After a moment, he said, “Lara Evans is out on bail and will soon be back at the hotel. Let’s get her into the Puzzle early tomorrow, in case the police decide to pick her up again.”
Morton pulled into a driveway, pressed a device in his console, and waited for the gate to open. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
When he climbed out, she noted the address, then leaned back and closed her eyes for a few minutes.
The sun had set by the time they pulled into the parking lot, but just seeing the hotel gave her an unexpected sense of relief. Only a night in lockup could make a hotel room in a strange city feel like home. Inside, Morton strode directly to the manager’s office. He knocked once and stepped in, a man who knew he was in charge. Lara followed, suddenly feeling grubby. Her makeup had worn off long ago, her hair was limp and unbrushed, and she reeked of sweat. If the exchange took more than five minutes, she planned to have a shower in her old room before doing anything else.
An attractive middle-aged woman looked up from her NetCom. “Mr. Morton. What can I do for you?”
“This contestant needs a private room, but after the assault on her roommate, I don’t want her name in the system anywhere.”
“I understand.” The hotel manager glanced at Lara. “I’m so sorry for what happened. We’ve never had an incident like it before.” She turned back to her screen and tapped her keyboard as she talked.
Lara said, “I’d like to look at the security footage in the hallway near my room around the time of the attack.”
“We sent a file of the footage to the police department this morning.”
“I’d like to see it anyway.”
The commissioner cut in. “Send it to me, please.”
“Of course, Mr. Morton.”
“I need to grab my things from my old room. Will you call me when you have the new key card?” Lara needed a moment alone to retrieve her 9-millimeter.
“Let me send an attendant with you,” the manager said.
“I’m fine.” Lara spun and left before anyone could argue with her.
She headed for the stairs, noting the two men by the elevator and watching them for unexpected moves. The stairs would offer more obscurity and it would be harder for anyone to watch her come and go. She’d never felt vulnerable like this before and she hated it. Once the gun was back at her side, she’d feel better.
Still, knowing the killer had several weapons made her nervous. The D.C. police had kept her Taser and probably submitted it to their crime lab. If the distance between the marks on Kirsten’s body didn’t exactly match the distance between the electrodes on her Taser, they’d have to reconsider their case.
At her old room, Lara slipped her card into the lock. She pushed the door open and stepped quickly to the side. Damn! She wished she had her gun. She listened for movement, despite the hum of the air conditioner. It seemed unlikely the killer would come back to her room and somehow manage to get inside, but she wasn’t taking any chances. After a minute, she moved into the opening, but still hesitated.
A taped outline of where Kirsten’s body had lain marked the pale carpet in the foyer. A wave of guilt washed over her. Another person connected to her was dead. This was why she liked to keep to herself. She regretted not reporting the crime in Eugene, but she was in too deep now to correct her mistake. She stepped lightly around the outline and entered the sitting area.
The guilt settled in her stomach, making her queasy. Lara fought it the only way she knew how-with a running stream of self-talk as she rushed to the bathroom. This was not her fault. She had just been doing her job as a medic and some crazy person tried to kill her. After a minute of deep breaths, she was able to keep her ProFast down. She dug her multi-purpose tool from her bag, stepped up on the toilet, and retrieved her gun.
As she hopped down, her iCom beeped. She strapped on her weapon before checking the ID: Morton. “Yes?”
“Meet me on the fourth floor near the elevator. Bring your luggage.”
Once the commissioner left her new room, Lara dragged a heavy upholstered chair in front of the door. It might not stop an intruder, but it would slow him down. She looked around, wondering what other protection she could implement. The room was twice the size of the space she’d shared with Kirsten and had a fireplace, hot tub, and oversized wall screen. What it didn’t have was a security system that would let her see who came to the door. She would sleep with her gun as usual and hope for the best.