“Think of the Bureau’s resources as my version of your Aurora Street Dream Clinic connections.” He gave it a beat before adding, “Except a bit less colorful. No one has ever accused agents of the FBPI of having a lot of style.”
“Well, you can’t have everything.”
Her attempt at humor sent a wave of relief through him. She might be an innocent out here in the real world, but she had the grit she needed to survive.
“I can contact my friends at the Bureau if absolutely necessary, but I’d rather avoid that if possible,” he said. “If I bring in official law enforcementat this stage, there’s a risk of losing control. I trust the agents I work with, but I don’t know if we can trust upper management. Realistically speaking, the people at the top might be vulnerable to the kind of pressure a man like Kelbrook can apply.”
“I am aware of that, believe me.”
“Regardless of whether it’s real, this video is giving us crucial information. If it’s legit, we may have proof of what really happened to you that night. If it’s fake, we’ll look for the person who went to the trouble of producing it.”
“The dead man in the shower, Carl Voyle?”
“Maybe. But it’s equally possible that someone paid him to make the video. One thing’s for sure—we need to know more about Voyle and why someone murdered him and left him in your shower.”
She gave him a quick, unreadable glance. “You’re sure I didn’t kill him?”
“He was shot with a mag-rez. You tried to take down a couple of armed men with a flamer set on stun. All you managed to do was set a quilt on fire. No, I don’t think you killed Voyle.”
“In other words, I’m innocent by reason of incompetence?”
“That’s harsh. ‘Inexperienced in the intricacies of firearms’ would be more accurate.”
“Yes,” she said. “That sounds better. Core Principle Number Three:Expertise in any endeavor comes with practice.”
“Something like that.”
He rezzed play and together they watched the motionless figure on the bed. “Pay attention to details. If this video is fake, there may be something that gives it away as a recent production.”
“It’s hard to see a lot of details because of the vapor.”
“I know, but it drifts a little, so we may see something later that we can’t make out now. The clothes look right. That’s how you were dressed in the one photo of the wedding that I was able to find.”
“Yes,” she said. “But I don’t remember getting dressed or the ceremony or packing for the wedding night.”
“Whose idea was it to spend that night at the Hotel of Dreams?”
“It must have been Travis’s.” She shook her head once. “I wasn’t even aware of that awful hotel. I’m sure of that much. And I would not have chosen it for a wedding night if I had known about it.”
On the video there was the sound of a key rezzing a lock. Light angled into the room. The sudden draft of air caused the yellow mist to shift and swirl, revealing a sharper image of the bed and the wall on the far side.
“Someone just opened the door,” Alice said, her voice very tight.
“Yes.”
They both watched two men approach the bed.
Alice leaned forward, riveted. “They’re dressed as emergency medics. Wearing gas masks. They’ve got a stretcher.”
“The shoes don’t look right for medics.” Owen rezzed the pause button again. “I want to check something.”
He opened his phone and started a search.
“What are you looking for?” Alice asked.
“A photo of the emergency medical services team nearest the hotel. Theoretically, they would have been the first responders in the event of a real emergency.” He zipped through the short list of hits. “Here we go. A media photo of the local fire and rescue team. Those two in the video are wearing the wrong outfits.”
“What?” Alice leaned closer to peer at the screen of the phone. “You’re right. Maybe the pair are from Serenity Gardens. No, that can’t be right. I remember the staff uniforms at the hospital very clearly. They were nothing like what those two are wearing. Who are those people?”
