I’m shaking my head before he finishes. “Bailing now doesn’t save me from either of those options.”
The ding from the computer behind him interrupts whatever he was going to say. An alert has him changing the screen to show he’s finally gotten into the Atlanta PD system.
“I’ll pull up the file on Amy Holder and we can see what they’ve got.” A few images fill the screen, and Devon says, “According to the dates of these entries, these images were uploaded a month before you got to Lake Forbing, so they have to be the ones that supported the material witness warrant.”
We both move closer to the screen to get a better look.
“This pic of you dragging Amy from the car is not your finest moment,” he says.
“It couldn’t be helped.”
He continues to click through the images. “You do a really good job of angling yourself away from the camera. Did you know where your shadow was?”
George is rarely the one who follows me around during jobs unless it’s a particularly important one like when I was on my own for the first time for the Coach Mitch job. Being my shadow has a lot of down time and I’m sure he’s got more important things to do. Most times I can pick out who’s watching me, but other times, like that night, I couldn’t. It was too dark to see anything farther than three feet away.
Shaking my head, I say, “No. I mean, in most of these situations, I had a good guess of where they would be . . . where I would be if I was the one watching.”
“Okay, here we go. New images were just added to her file, so let’s see what Smith sent in. You must have really pissed him off. He didn’t waste any time.”
The note attached to the pics makes it look like it was sent by a detective from another department who stumbled on this critical piece of evidence while investigating another case. And while Devon could probably wipe it from their server right now, Mr. Smith would just resend it later. Best to leave it in play.
With a few keystrokes, we can see the latest piece of evidence against me.
It’s a video.
He pushes play and there I am.
Chapter 21
Present Day
It’s late afternoon when I pull into the motel parking lot. I see Ryan pacing back and forth in front of the open window of our room, phone to his ear. He ends his call then steps outside as soon as I’m parked.
Before I can shut off the engine, Ryan is at the car door.
“I kept trying to call you.” I can tell he’s agitated I ghosted him all day.
“I texted that I called the motel office earlier and got us another night,” I say, then lean in to kiss him before he can respond. We stay tangled up for a few minutes, long enough to soothe any worries that there is a problem between us. “Sorry, that took longer than I thought it would.”
There were decisions to be made and plans to put in place once we watched the video. I have to hand it to him, Mr. Smith has all but turned the key in the lock on my jail cell.
Ryan follows me into our room and watches as I pull out a change of clothes from my bag. “I talked to Rachel earlier,” he says. “She’ll be in Atlanta tomorrow afternoon. She was hoping we would get up early and head that way so you two would have a little time to prepare before the interview on Friday. Looks like it’s around a four-to-five-hour drive.”
“Okay.” I move to my bag and grab a change of clothes. “I’m going to get cleaned up.”
“Hungry?” he asks.
“Starved.”
“There’s a pizza place on the other side of the gas station next door. I’ll run over there while you’re showering.” He steps close, giving me a quick kiss, then leaves the room.
Moving my stuff to the bathroom, I dig through my toiletries bag for some Advil. My headache from this morning is back. I can tell the bottle is empty before I pull it out.
I hesitate a second about whether to call Ryan and ask him to pick up some for me or to just head to the vending machine in the elevator corridor, where I know there is an assortment of single-dose packets like I bought this morning.
My head is pounding, so I opt for the vending machine since the pizza could take a while.
I’m still dressed, so all I need to do is slip into my shoes. I’m almost to my destination when the conversation drifting from the open space where the vending machines are makes me pause. It could be any of the guests staying here, but my gut tells me to be on alert.
I inch closer. Leaning against the brick wall behind me, I slow my breathing and close my eyes. I invite my other senses to take over, hoping to pinpoint what has me feeling like this. Deep breath in, deep breath out.