Me:I just left the taxi company. Quinn took a cab only to the corner.
Frank:The corner?
Me:I'm going there now to see if I can see why she wouldn't just walk.
Her getting into a taxi and going to the corner threw me off. Who did that? And why? It didn't make sense when she could have easily walked unless she needed the building cameras to see her get into a cab.
Frank:I want to know as soon as you do.
Me:Yes, sir.
I had the driver drop me off at the same corner where Quinn had been dropped off. When I looked down the street, I realized there was a hotel. Was it possible that she was staying in a hotel a stone's throw away from where she lived? I went inside to try to find out.
"How may I help you?" the desk clerk asked.
I turned on my charm again. "I would like to call a room, please."
"You're more than welcome to use the phone next to the elevator."
"I don't know the room number," I admitted.
"The operator can help you with that."
"Thank you." It seemed I wasn't as charming as I'd hoped.
I walked across the lobby to the elevator and picked up the phone. It rang automatically. "How may I direct your call?"
"The room for Quinn Russo, please."
There was a brief pause. "I'm sorry. We don't have any guests by that name."
Was it possible she wasn't staying in the hotel, or was she using an alias? An ID would be required to rent a room, but maybe she had a friend do it. Whatever Quinn was up to, I couldn't figure it out.
I pulled out my phone and texted him the truth:
Me:I've checked the hotel at the corner where Quinn exited the taxi. She isn't registered as a guest. I'm going to need more time to locate her.
It didn't take Frank long to reply:
Frank:She might have taken another cab. I'll have my men at the NYPD locate her.
I blew out a sigh of relief. Not only did I not want to find her, I knew that if she was found, she was likely dead. I didn't understand why Frank didn't go to the NYPD in the first place. Would it spark an investigation and connect Frank to them? Would they even help him once he reached out? I suppose they could do something off-duty, but would they? I wouldn't want anyone knowing I was connected to a man like Frank Russo if I were a cop.
The elevator dinged, and when I looked up from my phone, I saw Quinn step out, dressed in a hotel robe. Her brown hair was thrown up into a messy ponytail, and she looked like shit as though she hadn't slept or eaten in days. I followed her to the gift shop.
"Do you have any aspirin?" she asked the clerk.
"Yes." She grabbed some from behind the counter as I pretended to look at the postcards.
"Thank you. Can you charge it to room 3957?"
"Yes, ma'am."
I didn't know why Quinn looked like death or why she had checked in under another name, but I had found her, and I wasn't going to tell Frank. Hopefully, by the time hisfriendsat the NYPD tracked her down, she would be smart enough to still not be in town, around the fucking corner from where she lived.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Erin
