AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Derek was nowhere to be seen, so she decided to check the lounge. There was a different hostess on duty from last night. Thankfully, she wasn't paying enough attention to Brook to recognize her.
"I'm just looking for someone," Brook murmured as she brushed past and searched the random sitting areas that were throughout the room. She then checked the bar itself, noting that only a third of the barstools were taken. Pulling out her cell phone as she made her way back to the hostess, she was able to search the NCIS directory until she found a picture of Derek. "Excuse me. Have you seen him today?"
The hostess seemed startled by the question, but she kindly took a moment to look at the display of Brook's phone. Within a matter of seconds, she was already shaking her head in response.
"No, I'm sorry," the hostess replied as she set a drink menu down on the podium. "I'm sure you can find someone at the front desk to help you, though."
Brook thanked her before walking back toward the entrance. There was no way in hell that she was going to take the elevator to the fourth floor. At least, not without a police escort. She purposefully sought out the security cameras, noticing that they were blinking appropriately. With any luck, they would have caught anything unusual.
She really hoped that was the case, and that her intuition was completely off base on all the severe changes that her life had undergone these last couple of months.
"Brook? What are you doing here?"
Brook experienced a surge of relief flash through at the sound of Derek's voice. Images of him dead in his room had been prominent in her mind only moments ago. She'd been facing the front entrance in hopes of spotting Detective Hughes arrive, so she took a few seconds to control her reaction.
"Why weren't you answering your phone?" Brook asked tersely, wishing she could erase the last twenty minutes of her life. Technically, she'd erase a hell of a lot more, but that was neither here nor there. "I tried to call you back numerous times."
"Call me back? You know that I have a flight out this morning, which I'm now going to miss. I lost my cell phone. I've been looking everywhere for it," Derek replied right as they heard the distant sound of sirens. He ignored it, as did most of the guests and staff of the hotel. "Odd, though. I must have dropped it in the hallway. I found it outside another room close to mine and—"
"That's him!" a woman screamed in alarm. "That's him! I saw him come out of her room."
All hell broke loose when a security guard drew his weapon and trained it on Derek. He was ordering Derek to get on his knees and place his hands behind his head, though it was hard to make out the directives over the commotion that had begun to fill the lobby in waves. Everyone was yelling and screaming while attempting to seek cover from whatever was about to happen.
"What the hell is—"
"Do as he says, Derek," Brook hastily directed, wishing she'd been one step ahead of the unsub when she had clearly been one step behind. She recognized Detective Hughes' voice through the crowd behind her, telling people to move out of the way. Unfortunately, his arrival was a little too late. "We'll get this sorted out, but for now, do as the security guard says."
Derek couldn't seem to accept that the security guard's weapon was pointed directly at them. His hands were half raised in front of him, while she'd lifted her own hands high in the air so that there could be no confusion. She wouldn't deny that she'd wanted to draw her own weapon in response, but she hadn't worn her holster today.
Considering the circumstances, she wouldn't leave the office without being properly armed from this point forward.
"Derek, he's not going to ask twice," she urged him in warning. "Put your hands on your head. Now!"
Chapter Twenty-One
Sylvie Deering
January 2022
Wednesday — 2:06pm
Thecloudswerebeginningto move in and cover the sun, the bright rays deciding it was some sort of game of hide-and-seek. Every once in a while, a lone beam would manage to shine directly through the windshield of Sylvie's car. She had her visor down and had exchanged her black-rimmed glasses for a pair of sunglasses, though neither barrier was much use against the brightness bouncing off the hood of her vehicle.
She hadn't expected to be out in the field today. Actually, she hadn't expected to be out in the field much with her new position, but she'd known it was a possibility when she'd signed on the dotted line. If she were honest with herself, she'd been looking forward to a change. Her life had been in shambles lately, though not to the degree that Brook's entire surroundings had basically crumbled around her these past two months.
Sylvie still couldn't shake the mortification from being scrutinized by her own family, friends, and colleagues after her father had gone to prison for fraud. She'd wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and never see the light of day again. Never one to draw attention to herself, Sylvie would probably have remained in some hidden basement within one of the FBI's field offices for the rest of her life if it hadn't been for Brook.
"Turn right in one half mile."
Sylvie checked her rearview mirror as she rested her finger on the turn signal handle. She understood her assignment today, but that didn't mean she wasn't wondering what was taking place back in the city. Theo had given her and Bit enough information before he left the office to know what could potentially take place. It wasn't until Bit came into her office with word about an arrest of an NCIS agent that it had all started coming together.
She hadn't wasted time collecting her dress coat, gloves, and purse. On her walk to the parking garage, she'd cancelled her plans with Chet. She'd found that keeping busy was one way to ignore the fact that she was now basically alone. Most of her family members had decided to cut her out of their lives after the implication was brought up in court that she'd helped her father steal from numerous high-net worth families. He'd had the audacity to use her name on specific accounts when wiring the money to offshore accounts, thus implicating her in his crimes. As for her so-called friends, they hadn't wanted anything to do with her, either. Joining a dating service months after everything had come crashing down might have seemed juvenile to some, but it had saved her sanity.
"Turn right."
"I hear you," Sylvie murmured back to the English-accented computer program. For some reason, accents made her happy, and she could use all the happiness she could get. Chet was making her happy for the time being, but she was confident that he was only inviting her out to get information on Brook. It wasn't every day that someone could say they knew a serial killer's sister. "Maybe I should get a dog."
"In one mile, turn left."
