Page 35 of Shadowed Agenda
“Sir,” Walker spoke into his walkie-talkie, obviously talking to his supervisor. “I just spotted someone coming out of the victim’s suite. Team members are checking out the stairwells and parking garage. I’m going up to the room now. Two guys from Shadow Defense have my six. I’ve told my team not to engage if the guy’s armed. We have two new hires on tonight.”
“Standing by,” was the assistant security manager’s response.
“If it was me, I wouldn’t have hired the two guys,” Walker said as the doors closed. “They’re trigger happy. I’ve seen their type.”
“You served?” Drake asked.
“Five years. Shrapnel took out my knee,” he replied, placing his hand over his holstered gun as the elevator doors slid open. “I was lucky. The replacement knee works perfectly. My wife begged me to stay home, so I got on with the NYPD. I’m working my way to detective.”
Pavlo had already pulled out his Glock. Drake had done the same. Hotel rules and police regulations and procedures tied Walker’s hands. Off-duty police officers were required to follow the same standards as on the job.
Pavlo touched the man’s shoulder and signaled he’d lead. Walker nodded and stepped back.
The elevator foyer was empty. Pavlo ran to the end of the wall that separated the elevator from the hallway, flattening his back against it. The guy was probably long gone, but Pavlo wanted to make sure before entering the hallway.
He pulled out his cell phone. He squatted and poked the camera eye just beyond the wall. Pavlo took two pictures of the hallway before raising his cell phone to look at the photographs.
“Empty,” Pavlo said, feeling the tension in the foyer reduce.
Walker’s walkie-talkie crackled to life. They’d been too late. There was no sign of the suspect.
“How do you want to play this?” Drake asked Pavlo as they strode down the hallway to Regan’s suite. “We could call the police, but the guy’s gone. Whatever he left isn’t going anywhere.”
“We may not get the chance to check it out ourselves if we need to call it in,” Pavlo replied. Requesting the information through proper channels could take weeks if Hector was told not to share.
“You go high. I’ll go low,” Drake said and turned to Walker. “Hang back and take up the rear. If something goes wrong, we don’t want some high-priced lawyer making your life difficult. We’ve got a bit of leeway.”
“I appreciate it.” The corner of Walker’s mouth lifted as he passed Drake his master key card. “My wife would kill me if I got shot before our Lamaze class started. It’s our first kid.”
“Congrats,” Pavlo laughed. “We’ve got this. You watch our six.”
He took his position in front of the door to the left of Drake. His partner stuck the key card into the lock and toed the door open an inch. Pavlo nodded, and they burst into the room.
“Hands in the air!” Drake’s voice boomed. “Hands in the air.”
Silence and an empty room met them.
“Nothing looks out of place,” Drake said.
“Bedroom,” Pavlo said, moving to the closed bedroom door.
They moved in unison, repeating their actions. Nothing stood out.
The bathroom door was open, and Pavlo moved to one side, Drake to the other. Pavlo held up a finger and pulled out his cell phone. He knew the layout of the bathroom. He slid the camera lens a few inches past the wall and clicked.
Pavlo looked at the images, swore, and strode into the bathroom, Drake close on his heels.
“Shit,” Walker said as he entered the room.
Written across the mirror in what looked like blood was one word.Emmeline. Red rivulets ran down the mirror’s surface. Little pools of blood were forming along the white marble bathroom countertop.
Pavlo stared at the mirror.
“Poster paint,” Drake said, snapping on a latex glove he’d pulled from his back pocket. He pulled a red jar out of the bathroom garbage. “Easy to come by. We won’t be able to track the purchase.”
Pavlo raised the cell phone in his hand and took a few pictures. Drake placed the jar back in the garbage can, then slid off the latex glove, turning it inside out. He stuffed it into his suit jacket pocket. Hector would assume they’d taken shots of the evidence, but they didn’t need anyone else who might be pulled into the case knowing. It would only create problems.
“You don’t think the guy would have been stupid enough to use his fingers?” Pavlo quickly scanned the bathroom. “One of the hand towels is missing.” He pointed to the space on the towel rack on the wall next to the sink. A couple of specks of red paint clung to the faucets. Yeah, he’d washed his hands after writing the intimidating message.