Allison Brennan - Fatal Secrets

“I thought Craig had … killed himself. I didn’t know why but he had all the signs of being depressed. I didn’t think murder until I walked in and saw the guy in the conference room.”

“How many minutes lapsed from the sound of the gunshot and when you saw the man?”

“One? No more than ninety seconds.”

“What was he doing in the conference room?”

“I have no idea. He saw me and pointed the gun at me and I ran out, came in here.”

“It was open?”

“Margie was here. She’s the secretary. She had called the police when she heard the gunshot and was still on the phone with them when I came in. I locked the door and put a chair up and told her to tell you guys to hurry. I thought he’d follow me, but he didn’t.”

“Can you describe him?”

“Chinese. Tall. Had a pockmarked face, like from teenage acne, though this guy was in his forties or older. Wore a dark gray suit. Looked expensive.”

“Had you ever seen him before?”

“Not recently, but last year he was here and had a meeting with Mr. Jones at Chops.”

“Just him and Jones?”

“No. Two of Jones’s clients were there as well, from Rio Diablo.”

“And you remembered him after a year?” Sonia asked.

“Sure. You don’t forget a face like that.”

Dean retrieved the photo he’d taken back from Charlie. “Do you recognize any men in this photograph?”

Mercer looked closely at the picture. “There’s Mr. Jones, of course.” He started to shake his head. “No … oh, yeah, I know him.”

His finger tapped on the face of Sonia’s father. She tensed.

“You know this man? From where?”

“It’s been a long time.” He closed his eyes and didn’t say anything for a minute.

Sonia was getting antsy, wanted to push him, but Dean put a hand on her knee and held a finger to his lips.

“Devereaux!” Mercer exclaimed.

“Devereaux?” Sonia repeated.

“Four years ago he was here.”

“In XCJ offices?”

“No, it was at the Hyatt. Dawson’s, the restaurant downstairs. My top client wanted a dinner meeting with Mr. Jones. Jones didn’t want to, but finally agreed so we went to Dawson’s. On our way out, Mr. Devereaux was coming in. He didn’t seem very friendly when Mr. Jones said hello, but he congratulated him.”

“On what?”

“I have no idea.”

“How’d you know his name?”

“The hostess came up and said, ‘Mr. Devereaux, we located the Scotch you requested. Your table is ready’”

“He was alone?”

“I think so.”

“And you remember that? A brief meeting years ago?” Sonia asked in disbelief.

“I have a good memory for names and faces, it’s part of my job, especially with the turnover we have in that building now after term limits.” He jerked his thumb behind him in the general direction of the Capitol building. “But I probably wouldn’t have remembered at all except that after Mr. Devereaux was seated in the far back of the restaurant, Mr. Jones asked the hostess what the Scotch was that he had ordered. Laphroaig. You just don’t forget Scotch whisky like Laphroaig. The man has good taste.”

The Hyatt Hotel was across the street from the Senator and John Black pulled together all the cops he could spare to cover every exit, then he, Dean, and Sonia went to the general manager and confirmed that a guest named Pierre Devereaux was currently registered and staying on the tenth floor.

“How many people are staying in the room?” Dean asked.

“Three.”

“Names?”

The manager looked on the screen. “Mr. Devereaux, his brother Tobias Devereaux, and Lee Chin. There’s a king bed in each of the adjoining bedrooms, plus a Murphy bed in the meeting room.”

“When did they check in?”

“Late check-in Tuesday night.”

“When are they scheduled to leave?”

“Sunday.”

“Please pull all security disks since Tuesday night,” Dean said, “and find out which housekeeping staff has cleaned the rooms. I want them all brought to a secure area, but I don’t want them talking to each other. And call each guest on that floor and tell them to stay inside their room until you call again. Understand?”

“Yes, Agent Hooper.”

Black spread the information around to his men. Dean pulled Sonia aside. “You can’t come upstairs. It could-” he didn’t finish.

“I know,” she said reluctantly. “We have to protect the integrity of the case. We’re close, Dean. Be careful.”

“I don’t want you down here alone,” Dean said. “If he somehow slips through and sees you.” He motioned for one of the uniforms.

“Officer-” he looked at his badge.

“Jerry,” Sonia said. “How are you?”

“Good. Glad to hear Riley’s better.”

“Me, too. Agent Hooper thinks I need a babysitter. Care for the job?”

He straightened. “Is this about the Devereaux guy?”

“Yes. It’s complicated.”

“Jerry?” Dean said. “No one gets near her. Find an office and stay there until I call.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dean turned to Sonia. “Okay?”

“I understand. He wants me dead.” She steeled herself. “I’m good. But you be careful, too.”

They took the elevator to the ninth floor, then Dean and Black got off and took the stairs up one floor while three uniformed cops took the elevator up. Black had a master room key.

The Park Capitol Suite had three separate doors. With two cops on each door, they counted and entered simultaneously.

Three. Two. One .

Black inserted the passkey and pushed down the handle while pushing the door in. He went in high while Dean went in low.

“Freeze, Police!” Black shouted while Dean did the same thing with, “FBI!”

The room was empty. The beds were made, but disheveled. They quickly searched the room and confirmed that no one was hiding.

Devereaux and his cohorts had left quickly. There were toiletries in the bathrooms. A personal robe behind one door. But no suitcases, no clothing or computers.

“The killer knew he’d been seen. They ran,” Dean said.

With gloves, they went through the drawers and closets more meticulously, looking for anything that would give them a hint as to where Devereaux and the other two men had gone. No airline tickets, no notes or receipts.

Dean opened the wet bar and carefully pulled out a half-full bottle of Laphroaig. He said, “Let’s get this printed and tested ASAP. Detective, if you don’t mind, I’ve taken the liberty of calling in my team. I need this place gone over with a fine-tooth comb.” He swore under his breath. “We were so close.”

Black said, “He’s on the run. I’ll talk to hotel security and get a better shot of him if they have one.”

“Great,” Dean said.

“We should release it to the media,” Black said.

“I don’t know.” Dean frowned. He remembered what Hans Vigo said during the conference call. The killer would make mistakes when pushed, but if trapped he could be more dangerous. He already knew where Sonia lived, where she worked, and even had an assassin track her to the baseball stadium.

But he knew what Sonia would say if she were here. There were too many lives at stake not to push him.

“If not the media, all law enforcement,” Black said. “Airports, train stations, ports.”

“Absolutely,” Dean said. “And I’ll talk to Bob Rich ardson and Sonia about releasing the image to the media. But only a current photo, so if the Hyatt doesn’t have anything recent-”

“Understood,” Black said. His cell phone rang. “Excuse me.” He stepped into the hall.

Dean stood in the center of the room and looked one last time at the expensive suite Sonia’s biological father had been living in for the past three days. Trying to get into his head, to think how he thought.