Minutes to Kill (Scarlet Falls #2)(10)

“I’ve booked you two first-class seats into Albany leaving this afternoon. I’m going to New York to get up to speed on the Tate contract.”

Hannah’s brain absorbed the breadth of his statement. He was taking her client away. “Why? I worked my butt off preparing for that deal.”

Royce sighed. “Did you not listen to the doctor?”

“I heard him.”

“In case he wasn’t clear,” Royce said, “you have a ruptured eardrum and a concussion, but thankfully, there’s no bleeding in your thick head. You are taking some time off whether you like it or not. There’ll be other deals. Besides, I’ve been in car accidents. I know every part of your body must hurt right now.”

She tried to summon a glare, but scrunching up her eyes hurt. “The doctor said the concussion was mild and my eardrum will heal on its own. I’ll be fine by the time my vacation is over.”

“You will not return to work until my neurologist clears you.” Royce’s voice softened. “Your job is not in jeopardy, Hannah. It will be waiting for you no matter how long it takes for you to get better.” He stepped closer. His fingers closed around hers. “You know I care about you.”

The way he touched her hand set off warning bells. If her head didn’t feel like it was stuffed with dynamite, she would have been shocked by his admission.

“You’re my boss. Our relationship is entirely professional.” Hannah slid her hand away. Her reputation would be shredded if anyone heard Royce’s comment. She would not be that woman who slept her way to success. She’d advanced her career through hard work. Even without professional restrictions, he wasn’t her type. Though good-looking, Royce was too polished. The man used more hair products than she did.

A knock sounded on the door frame, and a man in a suit walked in. A badge on his belt identified him as part of the Las Vegas Metropolitan PD. A folder was tucked under his arm. Hannah had given a statement to another policeman hours earlier in the parking lot of Carnival.

“Ms. Barrett.” He narrowed critical eyes at her. “I’m Detective Douglas. Are you up to answering more questions?”

“Yes.”

Douglas nodded toward Royce and the door, obviously suggesting her boss exit.

“I’m Ms. Barrett’s attorney.” Royce stepped back, but he didn’t leave the room.

The cop sighed, ignored Royce, and focused on Hannah. “I have some pictures I’d like you to look at.” The cop opened his folder. “Based on the description you gave me, I pulled the mug shots of some of our known local offenders.”

“All right.” Hannah found the handrail controls and raised the head of the bed until she was sitting upright.

He set a stack of photos in her hand. “See if any of these men look familiar.”

Hannah flipped through a few dozen photos and handed them back. “I don’t see either one of them here.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“I had a good view of the first man. I only had a quick glimpse of the second.”

“I guess that would have been too easy.” The cop frowned. “See if any of these girls look like the one you saw.” He handed her a different set of pictures.

Hannah looked at each one, sadness pinging in her chest as she flipped through school pictures and family snapshots of dark-haired teenage girls. “My God, they’re all so young. Are they all missing?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The officer clasped his hands behind his back and stood square.

Hannah shuffled the last picture to the back of the stack. “I’m sorry. She’s not here.”

“I started in southern Nevada, but I’ll expand my query to the surrounding states.” The cop stuffed his photos back into their envelope. “I’ll call you if I have more pictures for you to view.”

All those girls were from this region. How could so many innocents go missing? The sheer number was dizzying. Hannah clenched her hands in the sheet at her waist as if her grip on the fabric would hold her distress at bay. “Were you able to trace the GPS on my phone?”

“No, ma’am. We assume he removed the battery or destroyed the phone,” the cop said.

“Have you found anything else?” Hannah couldn’t get the girl’s desperate eyes out of her head. Help me.

The cop tapped his pen on his notebook. “The club has surveillance cameras in the lot, but they don’t have a hundred percent coverage, and the section of the lot you were attacked in technically belongs to the motel. No camera coverage there, so we don’t have an image of your assailants. Surveillance cameras caught the black SUV on its way out of the parking lot, but the license plate was obscured, probably intentionally. We questioned the Carnival staff and did a sweep of the area. But the club borders on an industrial park. Most of the surrounding businesses are closed at night, and there isn’t much foot traffic.” He flipped the page. “The clerk at the motel denied that anyone fitting those descriptions checked in today. We did find another motel guest who thinks he saw a few other underage girls going into rooms, but he wasn’t close enough to be sure.” The cop closed his notebook. “Our fingerprint tech managed to lift several prints off the inside of the rental car.”

“But hundreds of people have been in that car. It’s a rental.”