Page 40 of Every Step She Takes
“As soon as I see the warrant. I’ll need to photocopy it for my duty manager.”
“Now you’re just jerking us around, kid. Give me her room–”
“I am not ‘jerking you around,’ officer. I take your request as seriously as I take our guests’ privacy. I need to assure my manager that I had a reason to provide Ms. Callahan’s room number. A photocopy of the warrant will suffice.”
“You know what will suffice–” the officer begins.
His partner cuts in with, “The warrant is on its way, Joseph. That’s your name, right?”
“As it says on my tag, sir.”
“Well, Joseph, we appreciate you protecting your guests, but Ms. Callahan is visiting from Italy, which means she’s a flight risk. She fled a crime scene.”
Fled?
Hell, no. I talked to that officer at the door. I provided my contact information.
The officer continues, “We’ll have the warrant within the hour, and you’ll get your photocopy then. Right now, we need Ms. Callahan.”
“You can’t arrest her without a warrant, officers, so I’m not certain I understand the rush. I saw her go to her room fifteen minutes ago. Our elevator and stairwell exit are both right there. She can’t leave without you knowing it. We’ll wait for that warrant and do this properly.”
The officers argue, but I’m out the side door before I hear the rest. As I stride from the hotel, I call Mom and tell her what just happened.
“They can’t possibly have enough evidence for a warrant,” I say.
“They don’t need it. This is a high-profile case, and they want a quick arrest. You’re their scapegoat.”
“No, Mom. Even if they know who I am, it’s a huge leap from that to a warrant. A judge won’t give them one without evidence.”
Mom says something, but I don’t hear her over the voice in my head, whispering that theydohave evidence if they know I was in Isabella’s room this morning. My fingerprints are there.
And what did they plant in my suite?
Oh, shit. My room. I turn back toward the hotel. I shouldn’t have fled. I should have gone back up and searched and found what the intruder planted, gotten rid of it and then waited for the police to bring their warrant.
Gotten rid of the evidence how? Hidden it in the hotel? What they planted is almost certainly forensic evidence on my clothing, which I have in this bag.
Still, whatever was planted, it doesn’t explain the warrant. There must be more evidence at the scene. Unless they’re bluffing about the warrant…
Enough of this nonsense. I’m not a fugitive. I’m not going to become one. I will dispose of my clothing and temporarily hide my backpack. Grab a coffee and head back into the hotel and say, “Oh, hello, officers. Did you want to speak to me?”
I need to confess to the crime Ididcommit. Tell them I found Isabella this morning, and when the hotel staff knocked, I panicked, realizing I was about to be discovered in a murdered woman’s hotel suite.
That’s understandable, isn’t it? A very human mistake. If they charge me for it, I’ll deal with that.
Unless the killer planted evidence in my hotel room. Something I missed.
Am I absolutely certain someone broke in? How likely is that? Joseph wouldn’t cut a new keycard without ID.
What about the clerk at the desk earlier this morning? Could she have been bribed for a card? Or the housekeeping staff?
No. Stop this nonsense, and fix the problem. Trust the system.
“I’m going back inside,” I say to Mom.
“What?”
“I didn’t kill Isabella. She was dead when I got those texts. I’m very clearly being set up. I’ll explain. It’ll be fine.”
