Page 42 of The Wolves Come at Night
“I checked in a couple of hours ago. No idea who that is. Maybe they switched rooms.”
“I’ll need to look inside your room, sir. And I’ll need ID.”
“Be my guest. Then leave, would you? I just flew in from Belgium and I’m freaking exhausted.”
Taylor cleared the suite, noticing there were no signs of Conway’s luggage. Her internal concern meter started thrumming. She took down the man’s name, Brian Hodson, looked at his plane reservations, which showed he had flown British Airways from Antwerp to Heathrow to Nashville, and concluded he was most likely telling her the truth. She left him her card and hightailed it to the front desk.
“I need to know where you’ve moved a guest. Avery Conway. She was up on the eighth floor yesterday, but someone else is in the room.” The desk clerk started to protest, but she slapped her badge on the counter. “Now.”
He typed for a second then shook his head. “She checked out.”
“When?”
“Yesterday. Checked in yesterday, too. Guess she decided she didn’t like the place.”
“Get me security. I need to see their videos.”
The clerk looked alarmed but nodded and made a quick call.
The security chief was amenable to helping without waiting for a warrant, and she followed the man to their offices. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
“I was here with her at approximately six p.m. yesterday, so it would be after that.”
The videos were well organized; timestamped and searchable. Sure enough, Avery Conway and her friend, Santiago Diaz-Rooney, checked out around 8:00 p.m.
What the hell?
“Thank you,” she said, heading to the Tahoe. As she walked, she tried Avery Conway’s phone again, and again got the voicemail.
Great. Now she had a missing mom on top of a missing kid.
Don’t jump to conclusions. Maybe she heard something about Carson and went home.
Before Taylor got to the truck, she realized she was starving. She decided to grab some truffle fries and a burger to take home with her. She knew it would take fifteen minutes or more, decided to get a beer while she waited. The staff knew her and politely stayed out of her way while she sat in the back corner of the room, sipping.
Taylor texted Lincoln while she waited.
Conway checked out of the hotel yesterday. Looked at the footage to make sure all was well. She didn’t seem under duress. Want to call the New Haven cops, see if she went back home?
His reply came immediately.
Weird. Will do.
Her food came, and she paid the check, took the stairs up to the lobby two at a time, and hopped in the Tahoe. Their building was only a few blocks away, so the food was still hot and fragrant when she laid it on the counter five minutes later.
She opened a beer. Ate. Thought. Tried Conway a few more times. Wandered, pacing through the rooms. Her team was out working and here she was, sitting alone at home, doling out orders. The isolation Taylor was feeling was exactly why she didn’t like her new position. Too many decisions to make, too little action to take.
The beer was nearly empty and she’d logged a mile wandering the condo when the phone rang again.
“Linc? Is Conway okay?”
“No word from New Haven to the contrary, which is good. But I’ve got something else for you. Georgia Wray’s parents were just in touch. They’re finally back in town. They’d like to have a conversation with us. Tonight, if possible. I can send Marcus, but you sounded bored, so I thought you might want to talk to them.”
“Ha ha.” She glanced at her watch. Nearly nine. “I’m up for it if they are.”
“Are you sure? I’d do it, but I’m covered up here.”
“No problem. I’ll go to them, where are they?”
