End Game (Will Robie #5)(86)
“If it were me, I would’ve done the same and maybe more.”
She kissed him on the cheek.
He took her hand and said, “Whatever happens, I give you my word that I will get Dolph. He’s going to pay for what he did. You have to trust me on that.”
She stroked his cheek. “I do, Will. I do.”
He shut the door behind her, fell back on the bed, and closed his eyes.
Part of him wished he were back in London about to walk into a house with seventeen terrorists and a nuke.
It had to be easier than this.
CHAPTER
49
“Who sent her the note?”
It was the next morning and Reel stared at Robie across the width of the table in the hotel restaurant. Robie had told Reel about the prior night’s encounter with Malloy.
“I don’t know. She said someone slipped it under the door to the station.”
“Do you think it was Agent Sanders?”
“No. He would never divulge that, because it could torpedo his investigation. And it mentioned that we were there and Valerie should talk to us about it. Again, Sanders wouldn’t do that because it could tank what he’s trying to do.”
“But lots of people were there, Robie. It could be one of Dolph’s guys. They could have done it on his orders.”
“That’s more likely. But why would they want her to know?”
“To turn her against us?”
“Why would that matter to a guy like Dolph?”
“I don’t know.” She peered at him over her coffee cup. “When did Malloy tell you about this?”
“Late last night. She came to my room.”
“Oh, she did? Did you have sex before she told you? Or after?”
There was a long moment of silence as they stared at each other.
When Robie spoke, his tone was stiff. “You think she’d want to have sex with me after finding out I hadn’t told her that her sister had been murdered?”
Reel looked away. “I guess that would be pretty screwed up. But then so is everything we’re in the middle of here. Screwed up.”
“Some of it is our own doing.”
“No argument there.” Reel put down her cup. “We need to do something.”
“What?”
“If I knew that I’d be doing it,” she snapped.
“If we can get to Drango things might clear up.”
“Might. We need more than that.”
“I think she lied to us. She must know something.”
“So it could be Lambert and/or Randall and prisoners for some reason,” noted Reel.
“But prisoners for what purpose?”
“We answer that, we answer everything.”
“Drango could give us that answer,” Robie pointed out.
“But she’s on the run. We put the info on her out there and got zip. So how do we get any answers from her?” Reel retorted.
In answer Robie made a call. Into the phone he said, “Yes, we spoke yesterday about Beverly Drango? Right. Have you heard from her? Will she be showing up for work tonight?” Robie stiffened and glanced at Reel. “So she will be coming to work tonight. That’s great. I’m so relieved. I’d love to surprise her. Could you give me the address and time?”
He clicked off and stared at her. “How does that make sense? Drango clearly was on the run. But she’s pulling her gig tonight?”
“Where?”
“Same place. Lancaster Hotel in Denver.”
“I guess that’s where we’ll be tonight, then.”
“Guess so.”
*
Robie and Reel walked into the lobby of the Lancaster at six o’clock that night. The event Drango would be working was posted on a marquee board next to the check-in desk. It said it would start at six thirty. It was a retirement party for someone named Jorge Schindler in the lower-level ballroom.
“She’s probably already here doing setup,” noted Reel.
“Probably.”
“How do you want to do this?”
“With as little fuss as possible. I don’t want to drag her out of here, but I will if I have to.”
“The stairs to the lower level are over there,” said Reel.
They walked down them and hit the main corridor on the lower level. People were rushing around, obviously finishing up last-minute tasks to get the event ready for the guests.
Robie poked his head inside the ballroom and noted the casino set-up. Craps table, blackjack, a roulette wheel, and a row of slot machines.
Robie turned to Reel. “Drango works the craps table.”
“You see anyone there?”
“No one who looks like her.”
Reel checked her watch. “I see other people dressed up like they’re working in a casino.”
“Let’s ask.”
They approached one man who was fiddling with one of the slot machines. He was in his fifties and paunchy with a pinched face.
Robie said, “We’re looking for Beverly Drango. We’re old friends from out of town. Your office said she was working here tonight.”
The man looked irritably at them. “I’m the owner. She should be working tonight. She called and said she was on her way. That was two hours ago. But I haven’t seen her yet. She was supposed to be here for setup an hour ago. I’ve called her cell phone five times. Nothing.”