He reached for the door.
Her phone buzzed, and she jolted awake, sighing when she felt herself and the sheets underneath her soaked with sweat.Marcus groaned and sat up on the room’s other bed, and Kate experienced a fleeting but intense rush of gratitude that they hadn’t been sharing the same bed, and he hadn’t experienced firsthand the night sweats that were Kate’s curse.
One of many, she thought drily.
“Whozzat?”Marcus mumbled.
Kate checked her phone.“Thompson.”
Marcus instantly came the rest of the way awake.“Did they find her?”
Kate answered.“Hello?”She listened, then said, “Thank you.We’re on our way.”
She hung up.“They found her,” she told Marcus.“Motel in New Kensington, fifteen miles northeast.Motel owner said she was shaking and in tears when she arrived.Also covered in blood.Decided the best thing to do was let her rent the room and call the police the moment she was inside.”
“Awesome,” Marcus said, pulling on his pants and grabbing his boots.“One and done.Look at that.When does that ever happen to us?”
“Been a while,” Kate agreed.
She grabbed her bag and headed into the bathroom to change.Marcus had seen her in her underwear before—it was part of the territory when you traveled all over the country and the FBI’s budget only allowed you to rent one room—but she didn’t want him to notice the sweat drenching her t-shirt and sweatpants or see the tremble in her back.She also didn’t want to think about him comparing her to Cheryl and thinking about all the ways his wife was better-looking.
Thou shalt not commit adultery.
She sighed heavily.If only that verse was enough to keep her thoughts at bay.
***
The Kensington Acres Motel was a quarter-step above most low-budget motels.The lights in the parking lot all worked, and each letter of the sign was illuminated.Other than that, it was one of a million cheap rent-a-beds found everywhere in the contiguous United States.Kate had a feeling this wasn’t the first time a dozen police cruisers crowded its parking lot to arrest a fleeing criminal.
Thompson met them outside, round face pale in the yellow light of the sodium vapor lamps.“She’s barricaded herself in room fourteen.She’s got a knife to her throat.Negotiator’s trying to talk her down, but it’s not looking good.”
“Shit,” Marcus said.“Let me see if I can talk to her.”
“You do that,” Kate said.“I’m going to see if I can get to her from behind and stop her.”
Marcus frowned.“You don’t want to try to talk her down first?”
“I wantyouto try to talk her down.You’re good at talking.I’m good at catching bad guys.”
“That’s a little reductive,” Marcus complained.
“I can’t wait to read your essay.In the meantime, Thompson, I need a key to that room.Is the owner inside?”
“He’s talking to my lieutenant.”
“Inside or outside?”Kate asked patiently.
“Over there.”
He pointed to a cluster of people—two uniforms, one man in a suit with a badge clipped to his hip, and an older, balding man in a wifebeater and knee-length boxers—standing in front of the motel’s pull-through drop-off curb.Kate headed over there at a brisk walk, fishing her ID from her pocket just in case the big FBI emblazoned on her vest wasn’t enough.Sometimes it wasn’t with locals.You never knew.
“Lieutenant?”she called when she got close.“I need to talk to the proprietor.”
The lieutenant, about the same age as the proprietor, but taller, in far better shape, and still in possession of his hair, frowned but didn’t offer a protest.The proprietor looked Kate up and down appreciatively.“Hey there, miss,” he said.“What can I do ya for?”
Yeah, this definitely wasn’t the first time the cops had surrounded his motel.“Special Agent Kate Valentine,” she said, “I need a key to Room 14.”
He blinked.“I mean… the rest of yinz are talking to her outside so’s she doesn’t kill herself.Sure, you don’t want to wait for them?”
