Chapter 22
Wed., May 10, 9:25 a.m.
Too energized from her turn in the Puzzle to go back to the hotel, Lara hung out in the lobby with other contestants. A few teasingly asked her to give them tips and she laughed it off. Sharing details about the arenas or Gauntlet phases was strictly forbidden, as well as stupid.
No one had been caught cheating yet, and it didn’t surprise Lara. In addition to the jobs and huge grant money awarded to the winner’s state, the victorious contestant took home a cash prize of ten thousand dollars and received offers from companies for commercials. Lara had no interest in being a spokesperson, but the cash would be welcome.
If she won, she planned to give half to the family she’d inadvertently harmed. More than that, she wanted to help her state. She wanted to put police officers and teachers back to work. Even more, she needed redemption. She couldn’t ever bring back the innocent life she’d taken, but if she made thousands of other lives better, she might hate herself a little less.
Lara watched as the scoreboard updated and her name appeared at the top of the list with 114 points. Yes! She’d earned 25 points for getting out of the cube and another 22 bonus points from the viewers. If she held the fastest time in the Puzzle, she could earn another 50 points for winning. The final prize was starting to feel tangible.
“You kicked ass.” Jason Copeland walked up and raised his bottle of juice in salute.
“Thanks. I’m a little stunned, but very pleased.”
“You still have to beat me in the Battle.”
“No problem.”
“The odds of us being paired off in one of the rounds are pretty high.”
“We’ll see.” Lara looked him over. He was younger and more muscular than her, but she had more training. She wanted to beat him just to wipe the smugness off his face.
“A woman hasn’t won both her rounds of the Battle yet. You won’t make into the Obstacle.”
“Whatever you have to tell yourself.” The Battle required hand-to-hand combat with various weapons. Lara counted on her extensive training, her speed, and her leaping ability to get her through.
“I’ll bet money on Lara.” Makil Johnson stepped up to the scoreboard. He still had to work the Puzzle later that afternoon.
“Thanks.” Lara grinned. She didn’t know if bet was just an expression or if the contestants had a pool going. Why wouldn’t they? Viewers around the world had betting pools set up.
Jason laughed and clapped Makil on the shoulder. “We all need to be worried about Sam Duggar from Texas. Have you seen that guy?”
“I don’t know how he made it through the tunnels,” Makil said.
“Let’s hope he doesn’t survive the cube,” Lara added. The point of the Puzzle was to ensure that brute strength and endurance alone couldn’t earn the final prize. AmGo had insisted the Gauntlet have an intellectual component and had done everything possible to make the competition gender-neutral and fair. Some bloggers still complained that men had a physical advantage. Lara wanted to win and shut them up.
Her euphoria fading, she nodded at her competitors and crossed the lobby, scanning in both directions for the blond man. Outside, she caught a shuttle back to the hotel. Alone in the van except for the driver, she drank a can of ProFast and planned her next move. She had free time until the Battle tournament started in the morning and decided she’d better look at the footage in the auditorium where she’d seen the shooter.
At the hotel desk, she asked the clerk to contact Thaddeus Morton. Lara figured he had to have a suite or office at the hotel during the competition. After a moment, the clerk wrote something down and handed her a small piece of paper. Lara read: Suite 440, at the end of the hall on the fourth floor. Be discreet.
Of course. He didn’t want other contestants to see her enter his office. If she won, it would look bad. Lara took the elevator to the fourth floor, found the hallway empty, and hurried to the commissioner’s suite, which was three rooms away from hers.
She started to knock, then heard a soft click and the door came open. Glancing up, she saw the security camera.
Morton was seated at a large desk in what looked like a luxury apartment. “I’ve been expecting you.” He motioned for her to sit at a smaller desk nearby. “Congratulations on your excellent performance in the Puzzle. I don’t usually watch the footage unless I need to make judgments, but I wanted to see if you’d still be here tomorrow.”
It wasn’t necessary to witness her efforts in the cube to learn her outcome, and Lara was surprised by his personal interest. “Thank you. I’m starting to feel optimistic about winning this thing. Provided I don’t get killed first.”
“I was hoping you’d fail today, get on a plane, and go home. It would make my life simpler.” The commissioner leaned back in his chair. “You’re here to look at security footage?” He gestured toward the smaller desk.
“We need to find this guy.” Lara sat down at the NetCom and tapped the fingerpad. “Has he come after you again or contacted you?”
Morton shook his head. “I really don’t think he’ll be back.” He reached for the control pad. “I’m sending you the video section the security staff isolated for us.” A few seconds later, an icon appeared on her screen. “That’s the footage of the orientation,” he added.
Lara opened the file and saw the front of the auditorium. “I need the footage from the camera aimed at the back of the room.”
“Fine. I’ll send the whole folder. I asked for two-hour sections, so you’ll have to skim through the beginning.”
A small blue folder appeared on her screen. Lara opened the file marked Camera 3 and started a video clip. The auditorium was clearly empty, so she fast-forwarded to the point where a service worker opened the doors at the back of the room. From there, she skimmed until the first contestants started filing in, then slowed it down and watched in regular time. After twenty minutes, she saw herself come into the room, look around, and take a seat near the back. Watching herself was a little creepy, and she was glad to move on. Some of the contestants came in pairs, roommates likely, but most were alone. The media people were easy to spot with their Docks and shoulder cameras.
The room had nearly filled, and the audience turned to face forward, as if someone had taken the stage. A moment later, she spotted the guy. A shaggy-blond man in blue slacks and a gray sweatshirt slipped in. He hung in the back instead of looking for a seat. A minute later, the service worker closed the doors.
Lara zoomed in on the guy and the image went blurry. He had the same build as the man she’d seen in the driveway at the commissioner’s house in Eugene and the same dirty-blond hair, parted in the middle and tucked behind his ears. Generally, the shape and color of his face looked similar too, but she couldn’t make a positive ID because she hadn’t seen the shooter’s face clearly, and this image wasn’t in focus.
She panned out and watched the footage as he stood in the back, listening to the speaker. After a few minutes, the man took a seat. Lara zipped the clip forward through twenty minutes of the commissioner’s presentation. Blondie stood, so she slowed the speed and watched in real time and he walked to the wall and leaned against it.
Moments later, she watched herself rise and head for the doors. Blondie saw her coming, did a startled double take, and charged for the exit. Lara was now certain he hadn’t followed her into the room. He’d gone there to hear Thaddeus Morton and had been surprised to see her, the witness at his earlier crime.
“Come look at this guy.” She reversed the clip while the commissioner walked over. She stopped it at the point where Blondie stood near the end of the speech. “Is this the man who shot you?”
“Sure looks like him. Not many men wear their hair like that.”
“You’re right.” Lara zoomed in again. “You know what? I think it’s a wig.”
“You might be right.” The commissioner squinted at the monitor. “Do you suppose his mustache is fake too?”
“I’m sta
rting to think so.” Lara turned to Morton. “Can you visualize him with shorter hair and clean-shaven? Could he be someone you know?”
“Without the hair, he seems vaguely familiar.”
Lara selected Tools, clipped the frame, and saved it as a separate file. She sent the image to her iCom number and turned to Morton. “If we took this to the police, they have software programs that generate and modify a suspect’s looks.”
“No.” Morton’s jaw tightened. “It’s too late now. I have political enemies who would use the scandal to run me out of office. Besides, the police rarely solve anything. They don’t have the resources.”
“Could your political enemies be behind this?” Lara had to look at every possibility; it was the way she’d been trained.
Morton rolled his eyes. “Shooting me in broad daylight doesn’t seem like their style.”
“Could they have hired someone?”
“It’s possible but unlikely. Remember, Kirsten was killed too. I think this guy might be insane.”
“Why target you?”
“I don’t know. It may be related to the Gauntlet. Some people take it way too seriously.”
“You mean like that group from Iowa last year?”
“Exactly.”
Lara remembered the news story. Four men in their late twenties had been watching the Challenge in a bar and became infuriated when the Iowa contestant was given obstacles to overcome that his competitor had not faced. They’d gone berserk, smashing up tables in the bar, then stormed outside to overturn a car. They were on the freeway to Indiana when state police stopped them. The talking media heads had speculated the enraged men might have killed the first Indiana resident they came to if they hadn’t been apprehended.
“That was a bunch of idiot drunks. This guy seems focused and determined.”
“Do you still plan to run his image through the criminal database?”
“Of course.”
The commissioner’s iCom beeped, so he stepped away. After a moment, he turned to Lara. “I’m taking this in the other room and I’ll be a while. After you get what you need, just let yourself out.” He headed for what she assumed was a bedroom.
Lara saved a second clip with just Blondie’s face and sent it to the NetCom in her hotel room. She remembered the hotel manager had sent a file of the hallway footage to Morton. She scanned through the rest of the folder but didn’t see a video file labeled hotel or anything similar. Wondering if it was on Morton’s Dock, Lara glanced at the bedroom door and considered interrupting the commissioner to ask. He’d said he would be a while. She hated to wait and she didn’t want to have to come back for it either.
Lara moved quickly to the big desk where Morton had left his Dock. She would do a quick search for the hotel footage, then ask for it at the front desk if she didn’t find it. Not a single file appeared on his screen. Morton guarded his information. She was curious about the commissioner and skeptical of his denial of knowing who Blondie was. She decided to conduct a quick scan of his files. As a detective she’d searched a few devices and had learned from reformed hackers how to find and screen a directory.
She narrowed her search to just video files and was surprised to see a folder marked game room that had 422 files in it. The folder was password locked, piquing her curiosity, but clearly not what she was looking for. Lara moved on but didn’t see any files labeled hotel or hallway footage. She heard Morton’s voice near the bedroom door and quickly closed the search window.
As she scooted back to the small desk, he stepped out of the bedroom. “I have to get my Dock. Were you leaving?”
“Yes. Thanks for your help.” Lara grabbed her bag and headed out.
Downstairs, she entered the hallway near the front desk and found her way to the manager’s office. A different woman was there today.
“I’m Lara Evans, one of the contestants.”
“Yes, I recognize you. I’m Alena Brown, assistant manager. What can I do for you?”
“I need to look at the security footage from the hallway the night of the murder.” Lara took a seat. “The manager last night said she’d send me the clip but I didn’t get it.”
“I’ll text Lindsey for permission.” The assistant manager relayed the request into her iCom. She looked over at Lara. “It might take her a while to get back to me.”
“I’ll wait.” Lara figured her presence in the office would ensure some follow-through. She pulled her Dock from her bag and tried to get online to catch up on the news, but her internet access was blocked. Of course. That’s how they kept contestants from watching the coverage on personal devices…and why the contestants and media people were the only guests in the hotel.
She opened an e-book she’d been reading called Supercharged Calories. Essentially, it was about staying healthy on a minimum caloric intake. Lara found it difficult to focus on nutrition. She closed the file, clicked her notepad, and started a list of what she could do to investigate Kirsten’s homicide: 1) Upload Blondie’s image to CODIS and run a comparison match; 2) Show the image to everyone who worked the desk at the hotel and see if he was staying there; 3) Dig deeper into Morton’s background to see if he had any enemies he didn’t want to name.
Alena’s iCom beeped and she read her message. “The boss says to let you see the file. She already sent a copy to the police.”
“Thanks.” Lara recited her iCom number, which functioned as a central messaging point for everything. The file would also appear in her message center on her NetCom back in Eugene.
“Are you working with the police to catch the killer?” the manager asked.
“Yes.” It was the easiest thing to say. As she left the office, Lara thought about Detective Harper. Had he seen the footage from the hotel? Would he come back to ask more questions? She hated keeping the whole truth from him.
She took the stairs to her new room on the fourth floor and made a protein shake. At the desk, she downloaded the file where she could view it on the large screen. At first, the camera showed empty hallway with muted colors and a slight telescopic rounding at the edges. After ten minutes, a man came into view. He was about five-ten and wore dark slacks and a gray sweatshirt like the guy in the auditorium. His hood was pulled up over his head and he wore sunglasses, like someone who didn’t want to be recognized. As he came toward the camera, the man turned his head and quickly walked out of view. Lara watched the clip for another few minutes, then it abruptly ended.
She backed it up and observed it again, looking for details. The man walked with a normal gait, no limp or injuries that she could tell. He wore black athletic shoes and slacks, like someone who worked in an office. His torso was longer than average, leaving him short squatty legs. The light-gray sweatshirt was partly zipped, showing a white shirt underneath, maybe a t-shirt. Had the police viewed this footage yet? If so, why was she still wearing the damn ankle monitor?
Lara froze the clip just as he was about to turn away and studied the image for markings. Overall, his face was small and square with an average Caucasian nose and a small mouth. Pale skin with no freckles and no sun damage. His strong chin was all that kept his face from being nondescript. Sunglasses hid his eyes. She tried to zoom in, but the generic software on the hotel NetCom didn’t allow it.
She uploaded the clip of the man’s face from the auditorium and compared the two images side by side. Same nose and chin. The mouth in the auditorium clip was obscured somewhat by the mustache, which Lara now knew was a fake. Why had he worn it to the orientation and not to the hotel? Because she’d spotted him and blown his disguise?
A loud pounding startled her. Lara pulled her 9-millimeter and spun toward the door.
Chapter 23
“It’s Detective Harper. I need to talk to you.”
Her shoulders relaxed at the familiar name, then tightened again. Crap. She didn’t have time for another round of questioning. Lara closed the files and wondered if she could get away with ignoring him. No one was supposed to know he
r room number.
“Lara, I know you’re in there. Open up. I’m not here to arrest you.”
Reluctantly, she reholstered her weapon and trudged toward the door. She wanted to stop in the bathroom and make sure her hair and makeup still looked decent, but she didn’t let herself. Except for the contest cameras, her looks didn’t matter. She didn’t want men looking at her that way.
Certain it was Harper’s deep smooth voice, Lara unbolted the door and stepped aside to let him in. “Can we make this brief? I’m in the middle of something.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Like what? You don’t compete again until tomorrow.”
“You’re keeping track?”
“Of course. You’re my favorite contestant.” He smiled, all charm this visit. “I watched your performance in the Puzzle. Amazing. I don’t think anyone will beat it.”
Lara fought back a smile, not trusting his new tactic. She glanced back at the hotel room, glad her new space had a living area. “This isn’t a good place to talk. It may have cameras recording.”
“When I got your room number from the director, I told her our conversation needed to be completely private. She reassured me there are no cameras in this VIP suite.”
Her relief was physical, as if a pressure was suddenly gone. “Let’s sit down.” She gestured for him to go first, then locked the door and followed. The detective sank into the soft club chair, so she took the matching couch and sat at an angle to face him.
“Have you dropped the charges yet?”
“Why would we do that?”
“Because you know I didn’t do it. The hotel sent you video footage showing a man in the hallway outside Kirsten’s door around 8:36 p.m.”
“That doesn’t prove you’re innocent. Who is he? You know him, don’t you?”
“I don’t. Have you run the image through CODIS?”
“Yes, but with the hood and sunglasses, it’s pointless.”
Lara thought about the second image she had of Blondie in the auditorium.
The Arranger Page 15
