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After the woman left, I set my coffee down and opened the bag. Two muffins-double-chocolate
and blueberry bran.
I texted Adam a thank-you. I'd just started eating the chocolate muffin when he texted back Put that one down and eat the bran. It's better foryou.
I laughed and carried the case file and my coffee and muffins outside, ignoring the cold concrete under my feet. There were weathered plastic patio chairs along the front walk and I pulled two of them over--one to sit in, one as a footrest. I stretched out, sipping my coffee, nibbling my muffin, and reading the interview reports.
I was almost done when a room door opened and a little girl of no more than seven came out. Her hair wasn't brushed. Her face was smeared with spaghetti or pizza sauce from the night before. As she started across the parking lot, someone shouted for her to close the door. The girl picked her way across the lot to a soda machine and got a Coke. Breakfast.
Seeing her made me think of Kayla, and what the folks at the diner had said--how her grandmother had kept her from a life like that. I needed to speak to Paula Thompson today. If she wasn't pleased with Bruyn's investigation, I could probably win her support.
I made a to-do list. Lucas would be so proud of me. Thinking of them, I checked my watch, but it was still too early to call their hotel, so I e-mailed Paige, saying I'd phone later.
I was sending the message when the hairs on my neck prickled so strongly that I looked up. The parking lot was empty.
I cast a sensing spell, but there were too many people in the motel rooms. I pretended to return my attention to the phone, while sneaking glances around. Nothing. Still, I had the distinct feeling of being watched.
Um, yeah, it's a motel. Could be the manager. Could be the perv in unit fourteen or the nosy lady in unit six ...
True. I tore a chunk off my muffin. As I was popping it into my mouth, a figure passed between two tractor-trailers parked at the edge of the motel lot.
I got to my feet and stretched. As I worked out a kink in my shoulder and feigned a yawn, a dark figure emerged from behind one of the trailers, then quickly pulled back.
I opened the door to my room, walked in, then cast a blur spell and slid out again. I made it halfway to the trucks when my phone rang. A Hawaii area code popped up. Paige. I ducked behind the nearest car and hit ignore. Footsteps scrambled over pavement. I peeked out and caught a flash of movement as someone ducked behind the motel office.
I took off after it, but by the time I reached the building, there was no one around. I cast my sensing spell. It picked up two people.
The chimes jangled as I went inside. The manager and his wife sat behind the counter, eating bagels and doing paperwork.
"Did anyone just come in?" I asked.
Twin head shakes.
"Did you see anyone run past?"
Twin head shakes. Twin blank expressions.
I glanced around. There was no other way in, but also no way for them to see someone passing by.
I went back outside, walked around the building, and found a recessed doorway--the perfect place for someone to hide, then take off while I went into the office.
I took one last look around, then retreated to my room to call Paige.
IT WAS AN ungodly hour in Hawaii, but naturally they were already up. Paige put me on speaker phone so I could talk to both of them. They'd already spoken to Adam, so my story was in place. I was doing out-of-town legwork for Adam and staying in situ to get experience mingling with humans--an idea they both heartily endorsed.
When I got off the phone, I had a message.
"Ms. Levine? This is Paula Thompson, Ginny's mother. Kayla tells me you spoke to her yesterday." Apause, as if she was biting her tongue to keep from blasting me. Shit. When she continued, her voice was polite, but cool. "I heard you're investigating Ginny's death. I'm sure you'd like to speak to me. I'm home this morning until noon. I'll be expecting you."
As nicely as that was worded, it wasn't an offer--it was an appointment. A private investigator had talked to her granddaughter without her knowledge. It had been innocent enough, but it sounded bad, and I didn't blame her for being pissed. Paula Thompson had just moved to the top of my to-do list.
I left as soon as I was ready. I'd gone about a block when an SUV pulled in behind me--right behind me, practically clipping my back tire. One problem with a motorcycle is that you're light infantry on a battlefield of tanks. I wear all my gear, but one driver yapping on his cell phone could be the end of me. All I could see through my mirror was the grill ... and the Lexus emblem.
Cody Radu.
I turned the corner. He turned the corner. I made an unnecessary turn. He followed. Another turn, taking me back the way I'd come. He swung in behind me, rewing up again before backing off.
Is that supposed to scare me, asshole? Send the detective girl running back to Portland? Now I had a pretty good idea who'd been staking out my motel room.
