Page 58

The alarm on my phone went off—an annoying beeping, buzzing, soon-to-wake-the-dead abomination. I reached for it on my nightstand, but it wasn’t there. I mean, the nightstand wasn’t even there. I realized I wasn’t even sleeping on the side of the bed I normally slept on, which seemed weird. I pried one eye open, discovering I wasn’t at home but in a hotel room. Oh yeah, the Quality Inn.

Shifting to the other side of the bed, I grabbed my phone and hit the side button to shut the damn thing off. I flopped onto my back, and the memory of what Jonesy and I had done last night rushed back to me. It was incredibly hot, and my erection didn’t disagree. I debated tossing the covers off and taking matters into my own hands, but then decided my morning wood was more likely because of a full bladder than the hot internet session we’d shared last night. Maybe it was both.

Once my hard-on had softened enough so I could pee, I went to the bathroom to take care of business. I finished quickly and walked back out, feeling chilled. Looking at the thermometer, I saw it was set to sixty-five degrees, a good ten degrees cooler than I was used to at home. A hot shower was definitely in order—and coffee.

The diner next to the hotel served a mean breakfast. After chowing down on scrambled egg whites, chicken sausage, and two large mugs of coffee, I had plenty of time to see if I could find out anything from Bally’s staff before meeting Chet. Maybe the disappearance of the two women hadn’t spread through the hotel, but as a nosy reporter, maybe someone might have heard or seen something. I thought I’d check with the concierge desk first and follow up with housekeeping.

The casino didn’t look busy when I arrived, and as I made my way to the hotel lobby, there were only a few customers checking in or out. I noticed a pretty brunette behind the concierge desk and made my way toward her. Just as I was about to approach, a very portly gentleman cut me off, directing his attention her way. She’d seen me walking toward her when the asshole rudely darted in front of me, bringing me to a halt.

I stood a few feet behind the aggressive man, his arms waving, and I caught that there had been a mix-up regarding his daughter’s wedding reception. The concierge listened intently and told him to hold on as she picked up the hotel’s phone. Shortly after she hung up, another woman in a suit approached and pulled him aside.

The concierge gave me a quick smile as she motioned me forward. “I’m sorry he cut in front of you, sir. I saw you approaching me first.”

I smiled back and took a quick glance at her name badge. “That’s okay, Sarah. Seems to be the way of the world,” I replied.

“What can I help you with?” she asked.

I knew I’d need to identify myself, so I planned to use my first name and the fictitious surname printed on the business cards in my pocket. I pulled one out with my notepad and handed it to her. “My name is Craig Beaumont, and I’m a freelance journalist from San Francisco. I’m looking into any connections between the two beauty pageant contestants who were abducted from this hotel last week. Unfortunately, one of them, Miss Gretchen Swenson, was found dead in San Francisco.”

“Yes, I saw that on the news. It was tragic,” she replied, then hesitated. “I’m not at liberty to talk about what happened, and I don’t know much, but let me see if my manager can assist you.” She picked up the phone, and I watched her dial an extension. “Hi, Mr. Sheffield, this is Sarah at the concierge desk. I have a reporter here wanting to ask questions about the two beauty contestants who disappeared last week.”

She smiled at me as she listened to what was being said on the other end. “Yes, sir, I’ll let him know.” She hung up, and with a slight grimace, she said, “Unfortunately, Mr. Sheffield can’t take the time right now, but he asked me for your business card and said he’d get a hold of you when he had the chance.” She waved the business card, and I thanked her before walking away.

At least I knew the room numbers of the two women. Jonesy had gotten Gretchen’s room number from her mother, Lucy, and Chet had told him Jasmine’s room number when we were up here last weekend. Another lucky break was that both women were on the same floor. As I headed toward the casino, I contacted Chloe to let her know she might receive a call on the burner phone she kept in her desk. I wouldn’t put it past any manager here to make sure my story was legit. She said she knew the drill.

When it was time to meet Chet, I headed to the security center. Knocking on the door, I was curious how Chet was going to treat me. He knew nothing of my being outside the door where the men had talked about me yesterday.

The door opened, and I was immediately greeted by Chet. He gave me a cautious smile, only confirming my suspicions that he had a terrible poker face. “Hey, Chet. Good to see you again,” I said with a friendly smile.

“Uh, you too,” he replied, walking out and shutting the door behind him. “You wanted to check the rooms the two women were in?”

“Yeah, I just want to let Detective Jones know if anything looks odd from my point of view. See if anything might help his investigation.”

“The rooms are as they were. They haven’t been cleaned and readied for guests yet. But the forensics team did a thorough job. Follow me, and I’ll take you to the floor they were on.” We proceeded toward the hotel elevators.

Although I knew the rooms were on the same floor, I wasn’t about to tell the sheriff that. “Oh, so the women were on the same floor?” I asked as if I had no idea. “Jonesy didn’t tell me that.”

“Probably made it easier for them to be abducted,” he replied.

I was tempted to say, “No shit,” but thought better of it.

Chet hit the elevator button, and the doors slid open. He swiped a hotel keycard against the pad by the buttons, giving him access to select any floor. Most modern hotels have that security feature to protect their guests.

We passed a housekeeping cart in the center of the hallway as we made our way to the rooms. I peered into the open doorway and saw a uniformed woman taking sheets from the bed.

Chet stopped at a door a few feet from the housekeeping cart and placed his card against the lock reader, which clicked, turning the entry light green. “This was Gretchen’s room,” Chet said, pushing the door open.

The police seal on the doorjamb had been cut. “Why has the seal been disturbed?

“Probably because of the forensics team going in and out.”

“Sloppy,” I said as I passed him. “They should have resealed it if it wasn’t cleared yet,” Chet didn’t respond.

He’d been right that the room was still in disarray. A chair had been overturned, and neither bed had been made. I remembered she had been sharing the room with her mother. All their possessions had been cleared out. I looked in the bathroom, and the only thing noticeable was the discarded bath towels on the floor.

“When do they plan to clean this room now that forensics has been here?” I asked.

“I’d need to find out. I’m not sure,” he replied. “There’s nothing here. Wanna check the other room?”