CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
The hotel was a simple little Best Western, located on the opposite side of the city. As Jack made the drive over, Rachel was again filled with conflicting feelings: relief from being pulled away from the truths Grandma Tate had dropped on her, and regret because she was electing to stay on the case. She understood that there was a bit of conceit to what she was doing—the feeling that the case could only be brought to a satisfying close if she was on it. She knew if she dug a bit deeper, the truth of the matter was that her daughter needed her at home a hell of a lot more than Jack needed her to help close out this case. But that, of course, was yet another truth she was not ready to face.
Jack pulled the car into the parking lot, taking up a spot right in front of the office. “All I got was the address,” he told Rachel as they got out of the car. “Of course, tracking the phone wasn’t nearly specific enough to give us a room number.”
“Well, I very seriously doubt he checked in under his real name,” Rachel said.
“Yeah, doubtful. We’ll just have to hope to get lucky.”
They walked inside the office where a middle-aged woman was typing something into her phone. She looked up to them and smiled as they approached the desk. “Good afternoon,” she said. “You folks need a room?”
“No, thanks,” Jack said, showing his badge. “We’re Agents Rivers and Gift, with the FBI. We’ve traced a suspect’s phone to this hotel and are hoping he used his real name to check in.”
The woman turned her attention immediately to the desktop monitor in front of her. She looked very stern and serious, anxious to help the FBI. “What’s the name?”
“Wes Dalton.”
She typed the name in and shook her head. “No such name. Hold on…I can check to see if that name comes up on any credit card transactions. Do you know when he would have checked in?”
“No,” Jack said. “We just know he’s been here for at least the last two days.”
The woman nodded and clicked away at the keyboard. After a few more seconds, she scrolled with the mouse, scanning the screen. “Nothing. But if he used a fake name, which some people do because…well, affairs and all, he probably paid cash. And as far as I know, there have only been four or five rooms that were paid with cash in the past two days. And all but one of them checked out earlier today.” She glanced to the monitor again and added: “This morning, in fact.”
“So there’s one more guest currently staying here that paid cash?” Rachel asked.
“That’s right. Room 27. They gave the name of Allison Kelvin.”
The name seemed familiar, but Rachel didn’t waste time trying to figure it out. Jack thanked the receptionist and they headed out, taking the first flight of stairs on the outside of the building and making their way to the walkway along the second floor. It was the sort of hotel where the doors were all exposed to the open air, the concrete walkways covered only by the underside of the walkway above them.
They came to the door of room 27 and paused outside. Jack took a steadying breath and knocked. Perhaps, Rachel thought, he had the same feeling she did—of knowing that one way or the other, they were about to step into a pivotal moment for the case.
There was a space of roughly three seconds between the knock and their response. It was a woman’s voice, presumably Allison Kelvin. “Yes, who’s there?”
The woman sounded tired and out of sorts. Hearing her voice seemed to help Rachel make the connection. She suddenly understood why the name seemed so familiar.
“Agent Rivers, with the FBI,” Jack said. Once he’d gotten that out of the way, Rachel leaned in closer, whispering in his ear. “Allison Kelvin is a name on the Life Fulfilled waiting list.”
Jack stared at the door, waiting for a response, his eyes narrowed and focused. “Is this Ms. Kelvin?” he asked through the door.
Again, there were several seconds before he got an answer. Rachel could imagine her inside the room, formulating an answer that would pacify them. Or being given an answer by someone else in the room.
“It is. And I’m not feeling well,” she finally answered.
“Ma’am, I need you to open the door.”
Jack’s hand went to his Glock. Rachel understood the impulse, as the fact that there was a woman on the waiting list inside a room they highly suspected Wes Dalton to have rented out was beyond suspicious.
“No. I’m not feeling well and I need you to go away.”
“I assure you, it’s for your own safety. Now, I ask that you stand back because if you aren’t going to open this door, I’m going to kick it down.”
“That’s highly uncalled for!”
“You have three seconds, ma’am.”
Rachel stepped to the side, giving Jack enough room to get some sort of momentum from the thin area of the walkway between the door and the rail of the walkway. He nodded to her and started counting.
“One. Two. Th—”