Page 73 of Her Last Whisper
“Aha, he’s going into the Parsons Hotel,” said McGaven.
“I’m not surprised. That’s a very pricey place; a grand a night for a suite.” Katie slowly passed the doctor’s car and headed to another parking area. Dr. Jamison went to the valet parking. “Put your cell phone on and go follow him casually. Make sure your badge and gun are concealed under your jacket. I’ll catch up,” she said and dropped McGaven near the entrance.
Forty-Three
Katie quickly found a parking place on the street so that they didn’t have to pay and leaving would be quick and easy. She knew that the doctor didn’t know what she or McGaven looked like—it would work in their favor. They wanted to see what the good doctor was up to and study his habits before contacting him officially again—this time it wouldn’t be a request.
Katie shed her jacket, revealing a nice sleeveless top, something that she would never wear to work but it would suffice for entering the hotel. She was glad that she chose wisely for a potential outing. She didn’t know for sure he wouldn’t immediately go home, but trusted her instincts and was ready. She put her regular firearm in the trunk and made sure her backup weapon was secured in her ankle holster. It was uncomfortable but she didn’t want to be without any protection.
She shut the trunk and secured the car as she dropped her keys and cell phone in her pocket. One last touch, she let her hair down and quickly combed her fingertips through it. She looked more casual and less uptight; nothing like a cop.
She walked through the parking lot and arrived at the hotel main entrance. Her cell phone buzzed and she answered it with a smile on her face as she passed a few people.
“Hi,” she said. “Where are you?”
“The bar,” McGaven answered with a strange inflection to his voice.
“Be right there.” She hung up.
Katie walked through the grand entrance, which was adorned with two-story-high plants, luxurious couches, and a water feature too big for a normal house or mansion. The carpet even felt expensive under her feet, and she was relieved that her boots wouldn’t make a sound.
Following the signs, she found her way to the bar area. There was piped-in jazz music, which was at the perfect volume—not too loud or soft. The large room was only partially occupied with two groups of people at tables and five people sitting at the bar. Dr. Jamison sat alone at the far end with his back to her. And then there was McGaven casually leaning against the bar as he ordered a drink—it was a seltzer drink with a lime in it. He looked over to see Katie entering the room—a few others noticed her too.
Katie forced a smile as she moved toward McGaven. She became slightly self-conscious with so many eyes staring at her, but glided through her discomfort. It was doubtful that anyone would suspect that she was a cop.
“Hi, honey,” she said to McGaven, raising her eyebrows—meaning play along.
“You look amazing,” he said and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek to keep up the charade. Most onlookers had already gone back to their conversations and cocktails.
“Let’s go to a table,” Katie said.
“Sure.”
They went to a small cocktail table so that Katie had a perfect view of Dr. Jamison. After they were seated, a waitress came to their table.
“May I take your order?” she asked.
“I’ll have what he’s having,” said Katie.
“Another for me, thank you.”
The waitress left.
Leaning forward, she said, “That is non-alcoholic right?”
“Of course,” he said, shaking the ice. “What’s he doing?”
Katie leaned on the table as if she was telling him something personal. “He just downed another drink. I believe it was a whisky something…”
“Did you tell your uncle, uh the sheriff, what you were going to do?” he asked.
“We’re not doing anything but watching a subject, simple as that.”
“But did you include it in your report?”
“Not yet.” She smiled. “Looks like he has company.”
McGaven started to turn.
