“And let me guess, no security cameras?”
“Correct.”
“She’s very useful, your mom.”
“Very.”
Alice raised her eyebrows, expectantly.
“She’s ex-CIA too.”
“Ah. Hence the obsession with spy thrillers. And having a lot in common.”
“Exactly.”
“Is it like in the book, otherwise? She raised you alone and you’re all she has, so she gets a little intense?”
He smiled wryly, seeing her prying question for what it was. “More or less. But she’s all I have, too. Hey, she’s a mom—ex-CIA or not, she worries. There have been long periods of my life when I haven’t been able to be in touch, and she’d probably be secretly pleased if I decided to run a small-town diner and live in an apartment above it so she’d always know where to find me. But she knows that’s not me.” He hooked his helmet onto the bike. “Think you’d feel comfortable staying here while I meet Randolph? It’ll be easier for me to go incognito alone, now that both our photos are out there.”
“Totally happy to.”
Relieved, in fact. After he left, Alice settled onto a stack of cinderblocks at the back of the carport, where a gap between the wooden slats gave her a peephole of the street. If she was going to be an infamous outlaw, she’d much rather do it from a place of relative safety. She watched the regular people going about their regular days. A couple of dads pushing strollers, a woman stopping to window shop at a boutique across the street, a knot of teenagers laughing over something on a phone, a woman wandering up to a parked car and opening the trunk, pushing her sunglasses up on her head.
Wait. Pushing heraviatorsonto her dark hair, which was tied in a ponytail. Alice would swear she was the driver of thecar that had followed them in Montrose—a dark blue sedan with tinted windows, exactly like this one.
The woman looked around and Alice ducked. When Alice eased back up, the woman was tucking something underneath her jacket. Alice drew back.A gun. The trunk slammed and Alice peeped out, feeling queasy. The woman was walking off in the direction of the hotel.
That could not be a coincidence. Alice had to warn Carter. But she didn’t have a phone, and she didn’t even know his number. Could she ring the hotel and ask for Randolph? He probably wasn’t a guest there. By the time they tracked him down…
Shit.
She would have to go and find Carter herself.
Chapter 21
Alice
The hotel was an ultra-modern glass building overlooking the harbor. No trace in the lobby of the woman with the aviators, but then she probably wasn’t working alone—there’d been a different shooter yesterday. Surely they wouldn’t open fire in a crowded hotel? A display board advertised various conferences and meetings, including The Randolph Jeffson Congressional Fundraiser Luncheon in the Calvert Ballroom. Alice followed the arrows up a set of stairs to the mezzanine floor, trying to appear at least outwardly confident. The ballroom was still being set up by uniformed hotel staff. No Carter, or anyone answering Randolph’s description.
“Can I help you?”
Alice spun at the voice. It belonged to an older woman with a white pixie cut and strikingly sharp cheekbones, wearing a cream pantsuit that drew attention to massive emerald and diamond earrings. Alice pushed Carter’s fake reading glasses up her nose, her hands shaking. She’d also changed out of her jeans into her capris and taken off the jacket. Right now, it didn’t seem like much of a disguise.
“I’m looking for Randolph Jeffson—do you know where he is?”
“Coincidentally, so am I. He’s supposed to be here right now, finalizing the running order for today. You’re the author of that book, aren’t you?Names Have Been Changed.”
“Co-author, yes.”
“Sensational reading. What brings you here?”
“You’ve read it?”
“My PAC is bankrolling Mr. Jeffson’s campaign, and the book suggests he’s a traitor to his country, so yes, I’ve read it. It’s proving rather problematic.” She stuck out a hand and Alice shook it, just about losing her hand to the vise-like pressure. “Tania Garrett. Here’s my card. Walk with me—I’m told he was last seen entering the men’s bathrooms on this floor. Now, what I’m trying to figure out—what we’re all trying to figure out—is how much of the book is true.”
“I’m trying to figure that out too,” Alice said, hurrying to keep up with the woman’s stride.
“You don’t know?”
