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“Possible ten-ninety-five. Heritage Hotel. White female. Unresponsive. Medic en route.”
It’s instant. Dropping my feet to the floor, I answer my radio, “Bryant. One-forty. I’m en route.”
In a whirling snatch, I throw my uniform on from my suitcase. That hotel is around the harbor from this resort. I’m minutes out.
“You gotta go?” Redix isn’t mad. He’s barely waking up.
“Yep.” I rake my hair back.
“When will you be back?”
“No telling.” I snap on my duty belt and grab my backpack. “I’ll keep you posted.”
“Hey.” His voice can summon me anywhere.
“Hey.” I walk to the edge of the bed, grabbing the hand he’s holding out to pull me down to his kiss.
“Go get those motherfuckers.”
My lips caress his before it charges through me, confessing, “That’s the deal.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” I let go of his hand and turn towards the door. “Have fun at golf. Raise some millions.”
“Oh, I will, Candy Cade.”
He annoys me… and that makes me smile while the door slams shut behind me.
The quiet morning street whizzes by while I race my unmarked car to the other hotel. I see her standing in front, the hotel manager waiting for me as I park by the entrance. I beat Jameson here for the first time as the ambulance wails into the parking lot behind me.
Showing my badge, the manager informs me while we cover ground fast, “I found her in the hallway outside her room. She won’t wake up.” She leads the way, running up a flight of stairs to the second floor.
“What’s her name?”
“She’s checked in under ‘Sarah Matthews.’”
I see her on the floor. Rushing toward her, I don’t see any trauma. But I see the M.O. Brunette. Yellow shorts. Young. Pretty.
Bile burns up my throat.
“Sarah?” I can’t touch her without the latex gloves I snap on from the pocket of my cargo pants. “Sarah, can you wake up for me? You’re safe.”
I squat, checking her pulse. It’s there but low. The elevator dings. That’s the medics coming up.
“Who checked in with her?” I rise, asking the manager and reaching for my gun while I take the keycard she’s offering.
“No one. But I can check our cameras, the tapes from last night.”
I nod, but I’m focused on the now.
Who’s in this room?
I don’t have backup yet, but I’m sick of waiting. With a beep, I slam the handle and kick the door open; gun raised and ready to fire.
It hits me fast—the stench of cigarette smoke.
I glance left to the bathroom. The door is open, and in the mirror above the vanity, the curtain is pulled back from the shower.
