“Fabulous,” he said in a grim tone.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Maybe she can give us permission to enter the room.”
“Wait for the warrant.”
“Yeah, okay. I’m exhausted and not firing on all cylinders. Anything new with Ethan?”
“Not yet. We’re briefing with the FBI and Marshals at eight.”
“I’m praying for him and your family.”
“Thanks, Gonzo.”
Chapter Nine
For several minutes after the contact info for the victim’s wife arrived by text, Gonzo stared at the screen, hating that he had to call her and change her life forever with the worst-possible news. Like everyone in their squad, he hated making calls like this one, but it had to be done. Anxious to get it over with, he put through the call.
A woman answered on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Carver, this is Detective Sergeant Thomas Gonzales with the Metropolitan Police Department. I received the message you left with our dispatchers about not being able to reach your husband.”
“Yes, he’s not answering his phone, and he never doesn’t answer his phone, especially when it’s me calling. We have young kids, and he’s there for work, and… I don’t know what to do.”
“Can you describe him for me?”
“He… He’s thirty-four and has dark blond hair. He has a scar on his upper lip from a fishing hook when he was a kid.”
“Ma’am, I’m so sorry to have to tell you that a body matching your husband’s description was found deceased in the hotel last night.”
Her piercing scream had him holding the phone away from his ear as he closed his eyes, wishing he’d chosen a different line of work.
“He can’t be dead!” she said between sobs. “He’s my whole world!”
“Is there anyone with you?”
“M-my sister is here. I… I called her when I couldn’t reach Dale.”
Gonzo made a note of his first name.
“Wh-what happened to him?”
“He was found in the ice machine room on the hotel’s sixth floor. He’d been stabbed in the chest.”
“Oh my God! Who would want to kill him? I… I don’t understand.”
As she broke down into fresh sobs, a rustling sound came as the phone was transferred to someone else.
“Dale is really dead?” a woman asked.
“You are?”
“His sister-in-law, Mercy Roth.”
Gonzo wrote down her name and told her what they knew so far, which wasn’t much. “Can you confirm he was a guest at the Vacation Inn and Suites on 10th Street?”
“Yes, he was. What should we do? Should we come there?”
