Page 9 of Lethal Deceit

“Sure. Which is why they’re utilizing the news to?—”

I spin around. “It’s not enough. People are desensitized to death. They want something sensational to entertain them. That’s the only way to get more airtime.”

Brooke’s face twists. “Never let a tragedy go to waste. Works for politicians too.”

My brain starting to spark, I nod. “Right? So let’s give them something that will get people’s attention and make themlookfor her.”

“Such as?”

“Get me on prime time. That reporter you know… the one who wanted an exclusive. I’ll tell the public what kind of a woman she is.”

Brooke’s face falls. “I don’t think your superiors will approve of that.”

I give her a head shake. “They think I helped capture a terrorist. May as well take advantage of it.”

Brooke’s eyes shift upward, and she swallows. “I need some time to think this through. You haven’t been authorized to give an official interview. You could be risking your career or a serious misconduct charge.”

A warning tickles my gut, but I brush it aside. “Make the call, Brooke. It’s time we showed the world who she is.”

Samantha

I close the door to my motel room, on edge, and feeling queasy even though the motion sickness meds should have started working. If they aren’t settling my stomach now, what hope do I have onboard a cruiser for four hours?

I breeze down the stairs, heading to the parking lot below. I’m not about to call attention to myself by leaving without checking out, so I go through the motions, ready to carry on pretending I’m here visiting my mother.

The clerk is behind the desk, eating a sandwich that stinks to high heaven. Behind him, the TV is on, reruns ofFriends,and he’s swiveled his chair so he can watch.

I drop my suitcase with a thump, drawing his attention. “Room 203, checking out,” I say.

He drops the sandwich and looks me over. “Riiight. Key?”

I hand it over and idly watch the screen as he wipes his hands before punching my room number into the computer.

“You take anything from the minibar?” he asks.

“Nope.” I didn’t need to. The door locks were so flimsy, I was able to clean out the minibar in the room next to me.

Again, his eyes trail over me, and I shift my weight. “Something the matter?”

He squints. “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

It takes all my patience not to roll my eyes. “You checked me in three days ago.”

His mouth flops open, his eyes narrowing to slits. “Yeah, yeah. That must be it. You looked different.”

I purse my lips and check my watch. “Is that it? I have somewhere to be.”

He nods, the perplexed expression glued to his face. “Sure. Yeah. Sure. You want a receipt?”

I grab my suitcase and turn my back on him. “Enjoy your sandwich.”

“Sure,” he says.

Picking up my pace, I wheel my suitcase behind me and unlock my rental car. Unlike the motel, I have no choice but to abandon it somewhere, which will place a red flag on the name I used to rent it. Pity. I liked playing the role of the dutiful daughter, but thanks to my mistake in Tucson, it’s unavoidable.

I close the door, lock it in case of carjackers, and blast the air conditioning as I reverse out onto the Jimmy Buffett Highway. With the light traffic, I make it to my destination with plenty of time to access my storage locker and get to the marina.

Finding a parking space isn’t going to be an issue. I locate one, drive into it, then reach into the glove compartment for my Accessible Parking Space Permit and leave it on the dash. To really sell it, I slowly climb out of the car, as if each movement causes me pain. When I’m sure that no one is watching me, I pick up my pace and fast walk until I find my locker. I haven’t been here in over a year, so I check the lock hasn’t been tampered with before I remove the key from around my neck, push it into the lock, and open the roller door.

---