Read Online Becoming Quinn by Brett Battles - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Brett Battles
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shape, and had a bit of a scowl on his face.
He looked at Parker. “Can I get a print of this, too?”
• • •
As Jake walked back through the lobby, he considered stopping at reception. He knew there was a very high likelihood that the men had been guests at the hotel, and if one of the women at the desk could ID them, then Jake would have names. The thing that stopped him was the promise he’d made Conway about not asking for any guest information without the proper warrants. If he reneged on that, he’d once more open the possibility of his superiors finding out about his visit.
There was a less official way he could at least get some basic information, though.
As he reached the exit, a different doorman than earlier pulled it open for him.
“Thanks,” Jake said as he passed through.
“No problem at all. You have a good day.”
Jake slowed. “Say, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
Jake unrolled the picture he’d been given of the two men. “Do you recall seeing either of these men?”
“Sure. That’s Mr. Redmond,” he said, pointing at the light-haired man. He moved his finger to the other guy. “And that’s…Mr. Walters.”
“They’re guests here?”
“They were. Left this morning, I believe.”
“Did they have their own cars or…”
“No cars. Taxis. They both seemed to enjoy walking, too. I’ve seen both head out on foot.”
Which could have meant they had a car they weren’t parking at the hotel, Jake thought.
He showed him the other picture.
“Yeah,” the doorman said. “Saw him a few times, but don’t know his name.”
“Also a guest?”
“Not sure.”
Jake rolled the pictures back up. He had last names now, at least for two of them. It was something, but not much. “Thanks,” he said.
“You got it.”
10
Jake was up early the next morning. Patrol the night before had been uneventful, and both he and Haywood had finished on time. Jake had spent most of the shift as they drove around thinking about the men in the pictures. Could it possibly be that they were connected with the murder? Should he tell someone about them?
He still had no answer for the first question, and his immediate response to the second was no. No one would believe such a tenuous connection. A feeling ? But then he’d reconsidered. There was one person he could talk to who wouldn’t think he was crazy, not more than usual, anyway.
Around 11 p.m., while Haywood had been doing his flirting thing with Maria the waitress, Jake had called Berit and asked if she wanted to grab breakfast the next morning.
“Breakfast? You mean get out of bed before ten?” she said.
“I was thinking eight-thirty? At Di’s?”
“Eight-thirty? Ugh! Why?”
“I’ve…I’ve got something I need to talk about.”
She was quiet for a moment, then said, “Fine. Eight-thirty. You owe me.”
Back at the academy, when they’d both realized they were different than most of the recruits, they’d made an agreement to always be there for each other. A sounding board, a pressure release, whatever the other one required.
This was definitely one of those times.
Jake arrived at Di’s fifteen minutes early, took a booth by the window, and contented himself with coffee until Berit arrived. As was her habit, she was right on time. The way she was dressed—a pale green button shirt and blue jeans—people would have been hard-pressed to guess her profession. She just didn’t give off that police vibe. But Jake knew her kind eyes and disarming smile were deceiving. It was like she had a thin layer of sweet covering a solid don’t-fuck-with-me body.
Like Jake, she was a voracious reader, a habit that led them into conversations about such subjects as microbiology, Middle East history, computer programming, and the future of paper money. They could go on for hours about almost anything. It was like being in college without actually enrolling anywhere.
As Berit slipped into
He looked at Parker. “Can I get a print of this, too?”
• • •
As Jake walked back through the lobby, he considered stopping at reception. He knew there was a very high likelihood that the men had been guests at the hotel, and if one of the women at the desk could ID them, then Jake would have names. The thing that stopped him was the promise he’d made Conway about not asking for any guest information without the proper warrants. If he reneged on that, he’d once more open the possibility of his superiors finding out about his visit.
There was a less official way he could at least get some basic information, though.
As he reached the exit, a different doorman than earlier pulled it open for him.
“Thanks,” Jake said as he passed through.
“No problem at all. You have a good day.”
Jake slowed. “Say, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
Jake unrolled the picture he’d been given of the two men. “Do you recall seeing either of these men?”
“Sure. That’s Mr. Redmond,” he said, pointing at the light-haired man. He moved his finger to the other guy. “And that’s…Mr. Walters.”
“They’re guests here?”
“They were. Left this morning, I believe.”
“Did they have their own cars or…”
“No cars. Taxis. They both seemed to enjoy walking, too. I’ve seen both head out on foot.”
Which could have meant they had a car they weren’t parking at the hotel, Jake thought.
He showed him the other picture.
“Yeah,” the doorman said. “Saw him a few times, but don’t know his name.”
“Also a guest?”
“Not sure.”
Jake rolled the pictures back up. He had last names now, at least for two of them. It was something, but not much. “Thanks,” he said.
“You got it.”
10
Jake was up early the next morning. Patrol the night before had been uneventful, and both he and Haywood had finished on time. Jake had spent most of the shift as they drove around thinking about the men in the pictures. Could it possibly be that they were connected with the murder? Should he tell someone about them?
He still had no answer for the first question, and his immediate response to the second was no. No one would believe such a tenuous connection. A feeling ? But then he’d reconsidered. There was one person he could talk to who wouldn’t think he was crazy, not more than usual, anyway.
Around 11 p.m., while Haywood had been doing his flirting thing with Maria the waitress, Jake had called Berit and asked if she wanted to grab breakfast the next morning.
“Breakfast? You mean get out of bed before ten?” she said.
“I was thinking eight-thirty? At Di’s?”
“Eight-thirty? Ugh! Why?”
“I’ve…I’ve got something I need to talk about.”
She was quiet for a moment, then said, “Fine. Eight-thirty. You owe me.”
Back at the academy, when they’d both realized they were different than most of the recruits, they’d made an agreement to always be there for each other. A sounding board, a pressure release, whatever the other one required.
This was definitely one of those times.
Jake arrived at Di’s fifteen minutes early, took a booth by the window, and contented himself with coffee until Berit arrived. As was her habit, she was right on time. The way she was dressed—a pale green button shirt and blue jeans—people would have been hard-pressed to guess her profession. She just didn’t give off that police vibe. But Jake knew her kind eyes and disarming smile were deceiving. It was like she had a thin layer of sweet covering a solid don’t-fuck-with-me body.
Like Jake, she was a voracious reader, a habit that led them into conversations about such subjects as microbiology, Middle East history, computer programming, and the future of paper money. They could go on for hours about almost anything. It was like being in college without actually enrolling anywhere.
As Berit slipped into
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