“I’m looking for a guest here. His name is Re—”
“If you could come with me,” he cuts me off, turning on his heel and walking toward the lobby’s elevators. I follow him, but don’t resist the impulse to give Gregory a pretty smug look.
When I catch up, he’s already pressed the button for the elevator.
“Is this witness protection?” I say.
He looks at me out of the side of his eyes. “Yes,” he says dully. “It’s this one hotel. The Witness Protection Hotel. For all the witnesses. Ever.”
“You’re funny,” I say. “But I’m not getting on this elevator unless I see some identification.”
God! I am so good at this. I wish Agent Tirmizi were here.
The man sighs and takes out one of those leather folds and shows it to me.
“Vic, huh?” I say. “Sounds fake.”
His mustache twitches. “You want to see Mr. Sutherland or not?”
“I do,” I say. Then I keep my mouth firmly shut for the entire elevator ride, though it is definitely a challenge not to bring up the weather.
Down the long hallway I follow the massive width of Vic’s back, reaching into my back pocket to take out Reid’s letter. I’m holding it tightly in my hand when Vic stops in front of a door.
When he reaches his huge fist up to knock, he pauses and gives me one last look, and the best way I can describe this look is to say it’s like having a raw piece of steak (with a mustache) judge you for being annoying while also asking whether you’re really sure you want to go through with this. I guess over the last few months I’ve learned not to judge people solely by the expressions they wear on their faces, but Vic here could really benefit from some gentle giant training.
I swallow nervously.
But I’m still as certain as I was a few hours ago, as certain as I was when I left Sibby and Lark in the car. So I nod once, the way I’ve seen Reid do a hundred times. A firm tip of my head.
Vic thuds the side of his fist against the door.
But it’s not Reid who answers. It’s just another random man in a suit. He’s rail-thin, a string bean to Vic’s slab of beef. He looks back and forth between us as though we are the worst room service team to ever show up to this door.
“Sutherland has a visitor,” Vic says in a low voice.
“How?” String Bean says.
Vic shrugs.
“I’ll take care of this, Micah,” says a woman’s voice I recognize, and the guy called Micah steps to the side. In my periphery I see Agent Tirmizi approach, but I don’t look to her.
Because now I can see Reid.
He’s standing with his back to the window, his white shirt untucked but buttoned at the wrists, his suit pants wrinkled, but his dress shoes on. He looks at me with that fixed, focused intensity I’ve missed so much, but he holds his body still and upright, his jaw set tight.Protecting himself.
“Meg, nice to see you again,” Agent Tirmizi says. “Oh, let her in, Micah. Vic, take off for the night. Thanks for the heads-up about her. Sorry you got waylaid on your way out.”
I tear my eyes from Reid, look up and give Vic what I hope is a look of thanks for rescuing me from Gregory’s extreme competence at keeping secrets. His mustache twitches, and I take that as a “you’re welcome” before stepping into the room, barely restraining myself from running over to Reid. But since there’s a lot of tension right now between Agent Tirmizi and this Micah person, I hold off.
“Did you tell her to come here?” says Micah.
Agent Tirmizi snorts. “Are you kidding?”
“She didn’t,” I say. I carefully unfold the letter, shuffling pages until I get to the last one. “It was in—”
Micah raises a hand to his brow. “Youinsistedon reading the letter,” he says to Agent Tirmizi, “but you let anaddressslip your notice?”
“It wasn’t an address,” I say to them, but I make sure I’m looking at Reid. “It’s coordinates.”
