“If they don’t have a warrant, we don’t have to let them in,” Camsaid, wringing his hands. “We can put up theDO NOT DISTURBsign and bolt the fucking door shut.”
I knew Nick well enough to know that would only make him more suspicious. The front desk had already let it slip that Marco was entertaining guests tonight. If no one answered, it would ping his cop radar. “He’ll only come back. Or worse, stake out the room. We have to move the bodies.”
“Where?” Vero cried. “We can’t just sling them over our shoulders and carry them through the damn lobby!”
“No, but we can roll them up in bedsheets and drag them down two floors to Louis’s room. Nick and Garrett aren’t looking for Louis,” I reminded her. “They probably don’t even know he was involved.” Vero glanced toward the bathroom, looking mildly horrified at the prospect of what I was suggesting. But we didn’t have time for her to get comfortable with the idea. “We’ll never find Javi if we’re sitting in a jail cell.”
“I’ll get the gloves,” she said.
“Cam, get your things,” I said, snapping him to attention. “And bring Kevin Bacon with you. Take the stairs up one flight and get in an elevator. Push the buttons for every floor.”
“Then what?”
“Keep going. Hit all the floors above ours. Stall the elevators as long as you can. Push all the emergency stop buttons if you have to. Just slow them down and make sure Nick doesn’t spot you.”
Cam grabbed Kevin Bacon and his backpack and ran from the suite like his jeans were on fire. If I had any other choice, I would have been right behind him.
Vero followed me to the bedroom. I flung the massive duvet off Marco’s king-sized bed and dragged it to the bathroom, spreading it over the tile. “Help me lift him,” I said, reaching around Marco’s shoulders. Swallowing back my revulsion, I wedged my hands under each of his clammy armpits, drenching the front of my jumpsuit. “Grab his feet.”
Vero plunged her hands into the water. “I really, really hate you right now.”
“You’re the one who got us into this.”
“I voted to burn the place down. Why won’t his legs move?”
“Rigor mortis.” I grunted as we both heaved. “It sets in… between twelve… and thirty-six… hours postmortem. The muscles and soft tissue… become stiff.”
“Apparently, not all of it.” Vero squeezed her eyes shut as Marco’s midsection rose from the water. “I’ll never be able to unsee that.”
We each braced a heel against the side of the tub, holding fast to his arms and feet as we leveraged his weight. I did the math in my head, welcoming the distraction from the squeak of Marco’s wet skin against the porcelain. “His arms and head are pretty loose. The rigor mortis phase is almost over… After thirty-six hours… the next stage of decomposition starts.”
“What happens during that one?” she asked as we dragged Marco’s body over the lip. It landed on the comforter with a wet thump, and we both grimaced.
“You don’t want to know,” I said, wiping sweat from my brow. I pulled the plug in the bathtub and the last of the ice water swirled down the drain. I set the hot water running and tossed in a handful of bath bombs. Vero took the last of the lavender-scented rosehip oil and splashed it over Marco.
“You have something better you planned to do with it?” she asked at my disgusted look.
We hiked up our bell-bottoms, dropped to our knees, and started rolling the bedding around Marco, repeating the process with Louis using the queen-sized comforter from the second bedroom.
“What now?” Vero asked, breathing hard. That entire ordeal had taken less than ten minutes. I had no idea how much time we had left until Nick made it to our floor, but probably not long. I turned off the water. The bathroom smelled cloyingly sweet, blending with the marijuana stench that lingered in the wake of the party.
I stooped to grab the bundle of linens closest to the door. Vero knelt to grab the other. She leaned back with all her weight, dragging Marco through the suite behind me.
“Why do you get to carry Louis?” she said between labored breaths.
“You’re younger,” I grunted back.
I cracked the foyer door, poking out my head and peeking both ways before bracing the hinge open with a crushed beer can and dragging Louis over the threshold. The suite was located at the end of the hallway. Thankfully, the entrance to the stairwell wasn’t far away. “Just a few more feet,” I said, giving Louis another heave. Static sparked under Vero’s duvet as she dragged it over the tightly looped carpeting, staggering in her high heels. I used my backside to fling open the fire door and towed Louis onto the landing, relieved when the carpet gave way to smooth tiles and the duvet glided easily.
We stood in the stairwell, wheezing, backs to the wall as we struggled to catch our breaths. A door smacked open somewhere below us. Footsteps plodded up the stairs. A man’s voice echoed up the passageway. “What floors did she say those rooms were on?”
A familiar voice responded, “Ten, twelve, and seventeen.”
I stiffened.Nick!
“Sure your leg is up for it?” Garrett asked.
“It’s only five more flights. Elevator was taking too damn long anyway. Don’t worry about me. I can make it.”
