L. Sellers - The Gauntlet Assassin

“The court will probably evaluate him, and if he’s mentally ill and violent, he’ll be incarcerated.” She stared at Morton. “It’s hard to believe he picked you at random. You have to think about everyone who could have a grudge against you.”

“Believe me, I have, but I didn’t recognize the guy.” Morton made a sudden lane change. “I live near the Gauntlet and I need to stop at home for a minute.”

“Do you work out of the offices on the AmGo property?”

“No. I live in a nearby neighborhood that’s conveniently located. This whole area changed after the Reagan airport shut down.”

Lara reached in her bag for her notebook. “Describe the guy in detail for me. I only got a fleeting look.”

“Average height with pale collar-length hair and a thin mustache. He’s lean and probably in his thirties.”

“How was he dressed?”

“I don’t know. He had a gun. I didn’t notice his clothes.”

“You had to see something.”

“He wore black.”

“Any scars, tattoos, or other markings?” Lara looked up occasionally as they made turns. The homes were new with beige paint, brick accents, and large green lawns. Unlike other places in the city, few trees had survived the redevelopment.

“I don’t think so.” Morton touched his earpiece. “I need to call Minda.” After a moment, he said, “Lara Evans is out on bail and will soon be back at the hotel. Let’s get her into the Puzzle early tomorrow, in case the police decide to pick her up again.”

Morton pulled into a driveway, pressed a device in his console, and waited for the gate to open. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

When he climbed out, she noted the address, then leaned back and closed her eyes for a few minutes.

The sun had set by the time they pulled into the parking lot, but just seeing the hotel gave her an unexpected sense of relief. Only a night in lockup could make a hotel room in a strange city feel like home. Inside, Morton strode directly to the manager’s office. He knocked once and stepped in, a man who knew he was in charge. Lara followed, suddenly feeling grubby. Her makeup had worn off long ago, her hair was limp and unbrushed, and she reeked of sweat. If the exchange took more than five minutes, she planned to have a shower in her old room before doing anything else.

An attractive middle-aged woman looked up from her NetCom. “Mr. Morton. What can I do for you?”

“This contestant needs a private room, but after the assault on her roommate, I don’t want her name in the system anywhere.”

“I understand.” The hotel manager glanced at Lara. “I’m so sorry for what happened. We’ve never had an incident like it before.” She turned back to her screen and tapped her keyboard as she talked.

Lara said, “I’d like to look at the security footage in the hallway near my room around the time of the attack.”

“We sent a file of the footage to the police department this morning.”

“I’d like to see it anyway.”

The commissioner cut in. “Send it to me, please.”

“Of course, Mr. Morton.”

“I need to grab my things from my old room. Will you call me when you have the new key card?” Lara needed a moment alone to retrieve her 9-millimeter.

“Let me send an attendant with you,” the manager said.

“I’m fine.” Lara spun and left before anyone could argue with her.

She headed for the stairs, noting the two men by the elevator and watching them for unexpected moves. The stairs would offer more obscurity and it would be harder for anyone to watch her come and go. She’d never felt vulnerable like this before and she hated it. Once the gun was back at her side, she’d feel better.

Still, knowing the killer had several weapons made her nervous. The D.C. police had kept her Taser and probably submitted it to their crime lab. If the distance between the marks on Kirsten’s body didn’t exactly match the distance between the electrodes on her Taser, they’d have to reconsider their case.

At her old room, Lara slipped her card into the lock. She pushed the door open and stepped quickly to the side. Damn! She wished she had her gun. She listened for movement, despite the hum of the air conditioner. It seemed unlikely the killer would come back to her room and somehow manage to get inside, but she wasn’t taking any chances. After a minute, she moved into the opening, but still hesitated.

A taped outline of where Kirsten’s body had lain marked the pale carpet in the foyer. A wave of guilt washed over her. Another person connected to her was dead. This was why she liked to keep to herself. She regretted not reporting the crime in Eugene, but she was in too deep now to correct her mistake. She stepped lightly around the outline and entered the sitting area.

The guilt settled in her stomach, making her queasy. Lara fought it the only way she knew how-with a running stream of self-talk as she rushed to the bathroom. This was not her fault. She had just been doing her job as a medic and some crazy person tried to kill her. After a minute of deep breaths, she was able to keep her ProFast down. She dug her multi-purpose tool from her bag, stepped up on the toilet, and retrieved her gun.

As she hopped down, her iCom beeped. She strapped on her weapon before checking the ID: Morton. “Yes?”

“Meet me on the fourth floor near the elevator. Bring your luggage.”

Once the commissioner left her new room, Lara dragged a heavy upholstered chair in front of the door. It might not stop an intruder, but it would slow him down. She looked around, wondering what other protection she could implement. The room was twice the size of the space she’d shared with Kirsten and had a fireplace, hot tub, and oversized wall screen. What it didn’t have was a security system that would let her see who came to the door. She would sleep with her gun as usual and hope for the best.

After taking a shower and drinking a can of ProFast, Lara sat down at the NetCom. She wanted to check the stats for the Challenge and see who had made it into the Puzzle and who was going home. Her name was fourth on the list, and she was scheduled for nine the next morning. She scanned down. Jason Copeland from Illinois had won his match and so had Makil Johnson, two contestants she considered her greatest challengers. Makil had completed the Ironman Triathlon. Lara was surprised to see Suzie Ventola from New Mexico on the list of Challenge winners. She was thirty and small and had spent most of her career as an accountant. But she also competed in triathlons, so her endurance was excellent.

Lara wanted to check the hotel security footage, but she desperately needed sleep. At midnight she set her alarm, lay down with her gun, and tried not to think about the Puzzle. Tomorrow’s contest was in some ways the most challenging because it would exercise her brain instead of her body. Just her against the clock, trying to MacGyver her way out of a locked room.

Wed., May 10, 6:05 a.m.

After a rough night of waking every hour, Lara rose early and dressed for a run. Weapon strapped to her side and Mace in hand, she pounded down the stairs and looked over her shoulder every few seconds while passing through the lobby. A certain element of fear and caution were part of her nature after years of being a cop, but she’d never felt hunted before and she hated it. Yet she wouldn’t let it stop her from doing the things that kept her sane.

Outside, the sun shimmered above the horizon and the early morning air was still fresh-warm but not blistering. She ran along the perimeter of the property for an hour, slowly peeling away the stress of yesterday’s incarceration. On the west side, she caught glimpses of the dark cool river. To the east, the expressway hummed with morning commuters. By the time she returned to the hotel, the day had heated up and sweat poured from body.