Alone (Detective D.D. Warren, #1)(98)

The receptionist smiled at him. “Of course. One minute, sir.”

She dialed the room. Mr. Bosu held his breath. Surely the good judge couldn't refuse his grandson, particularly if the boy was coming up alone.

“Mrs. Gagnon?” the receptionist said brightly. Mr. Bosu exhaled. The wife. Perfect. “Yes, we have a fine young man here, Nathan Gagnon. . . . Yes, your grandson. What a handsome boy, too. We'll send him right up with a bellhop. Do you know Nathan has a puppy? Not a problem, ma'am, but we do have a form we'll need filled out. Excellent. I'll send that up, as well. Thank you.”

The receptionist put down the phone, the perky smile still on her face. “Mrs. Gagnon is very excited to see her grandson. If you'd like to depart, sir, we can take it from here.”

Mr. Bosu graciously thanked the woman. He even shook Nathan's hand. “So happy I could get you to your grandparents, young man. The puppy's name is Trickster. Your mom wanted you to have him as a surprise.”

“Mommy?” the boy asked hopefully.

“Trust me, you'll be with her soon enough.”

This pacified the kid, and he nodded his head vigorously while clutching Trickster against his chest. Then the bellhop came over, admiring the fine boy, admiring the fine dog, and all was well.

They headed for the elevator. “The penthouse suite,” the bellhop was telling Nathan. “That sucker's bigger than my house. You're gonna love it up there.”

The elevator doors opened. Mr. Bosu turned. The receptionist was attending someone else, the bellhop was busy with Nathan. . . .

Mr. Bosu bolted for the stairs. He sprinted up three levels, bam, bam, bam, taking the stairs two at a time. Then he burst onto the third floor—blissfully empty—where he pounded the elevator button. The elevator came to an immediate halt.

The doors opened. The bellhop appeared surprised to see Mr. Bosu standing right there.

“Weren't you in the lobby—”

Mr. Bosu seized the young man by the shirt and jerked him into the hall. One quick snap and the man crumpled to the floor. Mr. Bosu grabbed the man's jacket, snatched the man's master key—a card hanging from a chain around his neck—and stepped back inside the elevator.

Nathan was staring at him. The boy's eyes were solemn and wide.

“My mommy warned me about men like you,” the boy said.

Mr. Bosu grinned his full, awful grin. “Yeah, I bet she did.”




E NTERING THE HOTEL LeRoux, Bobby watched for security guards while Catherine did the talking.

“James and Maryanne Gagnon,” she told the receptionist.

“They're expecting you?”

“Tell them it's about their grandson.”

“Nathan?” the receptionist asked brightly.

Catherine became hyperaware. So did Bobby. “You've seen Nathan?” Catherine asked sharply.

“Why, yes. Just ten minutes ago. One of our bellhops escorted him upstairs.”

“Was he with a man?” Bobby broke in. “Big, maybe looked like he'd been in a fight?”

“Yes, he mentioned he'd been hurt—”

They didn't wait to hear the rest. “That man is a convicted pedophile,” Catherine screamed. “He kidnapped my son earlier today. Call the police and get us upstairs!”




T HE RECEPTIONIST WAS flustered. She wanted to call for security. She wanted to dial the room. She needed permission, she needed help. She clearly didn't know what to do.

Bobby was already in front of the elevators, stabbing at the buttons, pacing wildly.

“Fine, call the room!” Catherine pleaded. “Dial the room number now. Get them on the phone, please, go ahead.”

The overwhelmed receptionist picked up the phone. She punched in a four-digit number. Catherine blatantly memorized it. Thirty seconds later, however, the receptionist was more confused than ever.

“No one's answering. I don't understand. Why, just a few minutes ago—”

A sudden, sharp scream. The elevator doors opened. A well-dressed man and woman came stumbling out.

“There's a body!” the woman wailed. “There's a body on the third floor.”

“It's a bellhop,” the man said. “I'd swear someone snapped his neck.”

Pandemonium broke out. Now security guards did come running, bellhops, too. The parking valet went sprinting by Bobby. Bobby grabbed the man's arm, then flashed his badge.

“Police. Give me your pass key. Now!”

The bewildered valet turned over his pass key. Bobby jerked his head at Catherine.

They bolted into the elevator, slammed the key into the slot, and headed for the penthouse floor.

“You look for Nathan,” Bobby said. “I'll take care of Umbrio.”

“What about James and Maryanne?”

Bobby shrugged. “If they're working with Umbrio, then they're probably safe. If they're against Umbrio, then we probably don't have to worry about them anymore.”

“Oh God . . .”

“Let's go,” Bobby said.




M R. BOSU KNOCKED once. He went for a childlike rat-a-tat.

The door opened, and, without bothering to wait, Mr. Bosu slammed his fist into the man's face. There was a wet crunching sound. Then the man sprawled onto the vast marble floor.