Cut and Run(38)

“Her Uber app showed she was picked up at a hotel at ten p.m. last night.” Savage reached for the hotel key that was among Macy’s belongings. “I called the hotel, identified myself, and told them to hold off on housekeeping until we can investigate the room. The manager said Macy wasn’t supposed to check out until Friday and had put a Do Not Disturb sign on her door. The room should be untouched.”

Hayden wrote down the hotel name and address. “I’ll check it out.” He looked at the picture of the Paige Sheldon flyer Macy had taken outside Second Chances.

“She might have left more information in her hotel room,” Savage said.

“Which is exactly why we’re headed there.”



The drive to Macy Crow’s hotel room took Hayden and Brogan just under twenty minutes. It was an average, nondescript chain hotel that could be found in hundreds of cities across America. They introduced themselves to the clerk, who ducked into the back and brought out the manager, a tall man with short, graying hair.

He came from behind the front desk and extended his hand. “I’m Jay Sanchez. You called about one of our guests?”

“That’s right,” Brogan said. “We’d like to see Macy Crow’s room.”

“It was a hit-and-run?” the manager asked.

“She passed away late last night, and we’re trying to find out what happened.” Brogan was sticking to the story that Macy was dead.

“That’s terrible,” Sanchez said. “Of course I’ll show you the room.”

As they rode the elevator to the third floor, Hayden asked, “When did she check in?”

“Yesterday,” he said. “She was supposed to check out on Friday.”

“Did you notice anything about Ms. Crow?” Hayden asked. “Did she have any visitors?”

“No visitors that I know of, but I don’t work the front desk anymore.” The elevator doors opened, and Sanchez extended his hand and waited for them to exit. “I did ask the gals that worked the front desk, and none of them remembered. I’m having the surveillance tapes pulled. As soon as I get the all clear from corporate, I’ll turn them over.”

The manager stopped at room 342, where a DO NOT DISTURB sign dangled from the door handle. He removed a passkey from his pocket, swiped it, and opened the door. “Ms. Crow checked in Monday, but she didn’t have a reservation. I checked the room status myself when Ms. Savage called to confirm that housekeeping had not been inside. As you can see, they haven’t.”

“Did you enter the room?” Hayden asked.

“No. I didn’t want to disrupt anything.”

“Great. Thank you for your time, Mr. Sanchez,” Hayden said. “We’ll take it from here.”

“Glad to help.” Sanchez lingered a beat and then, accepting that Hayden wouldn’t allow him inside, nodded and stepped aside. Hayden pulled on latex gloves, flipped on the lights, and closed the door.

Brogan worked his fingers into gloves. “Give us a clue, Macy.”

The room was furnished with the standard two double beds, a desk and chair, a bureau, and a television. Both beds were still made, but judging by the towels on the bathroom floor and the open soap packets, she had showered in the short time she was here.

A blue zippered bag filled with cosmetics, tampons, toothbrush, toothpaste, and razor sat on the bathroom counter. In the shower, the shampoo and conditioner bottles were open.

Hayden looked at the blond strands of hair in the hairbrush, and his mind flashed to a memory of Faith running her hands through her very thick hair. She’d quipped once that sometimes the locks were like having a sheepdog on her head.

There was a coffee maker plugged into the wall, and beside it were two wrapped mugs and K-Cups. The trash can was clean.

Hayden stripped the top blanket on one of the beds and removed the pillowcases from the pillows before yanking off the sheets. He skimmed his hands under first one mattress and then the other but found nothing.

Brogan opened and searched the bureau drawers. The first was empty except for a Bible. None of the others held anything. He then crossed to the simple desk, where a computer and phone sat in full display. There was also a set of keys, which he guessed was for Jack Crow’s truck.

“Here we go.” Brogan opened the laptop.

Hayden rubbed the back of his neck and studied the stickers on the outside of the computer. “Hiking, a Hello Kitty sticker, a triathlon logo, and a literacy emblem. Athletic, quirky, and smart.”

Brogan booted up the computer. A screen saver appeared featuring Macy standing atop a peak in a lush green mountain range that reminded Hayden of the Appalachian Trail. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, her sunglasses were on top of her head, and she wore a blue puffer jacket. Straight white teeth flashed, and she had her hands in the air as if she’d crossed a finish line. He would have sworn on a stack of Bibles it was Faith.

“She worked for the FBI,” Brogan said. “And yet she doesn’t have a pass code on her computer.”

“She wanted us to see this. One more precaution, just in case.”

Hayden picked up the keys and walked to the window. Pushing back the curtains, he scanned the lot until he spotted several dark trucks. He began clicking the unlock button on the chain. The lights on the truck parked closest to the hotel winked.