“This place doesn’t look that much different in the daytime,” Keyon commented, looking out at the vast horizon. He was driving.
“It’s as flat as parts of Iraq,” George said.
“Don’t remind me,” Keyon answered.
Arriving at the hotel before 7:00 A.M., there was no activity in the parking lot. George parked as close to the entrance as possible, putting the ignition key behind the visor in case one of them had to leave without the other. Before they got out, both checked their respective weapons, the Smith and Wesson for George and the Berretta for Keyon.
“Ready?” George questioned.
“Let’s do it,” Keyon said.
They walked quickly but not too quickly, to avoid being conspicuous. There were four taxis waiting in queue, with all four drivers sipping coffee in their respective vehicles. Inside the building, the reception area was deserted except for a single person standing at the front desk being helped by a single hotel employee. George and Keyon walked up and stood in line.
Dressed in their normal suits and ties, Keyon and George were confident that they wouldn’t attract any attention. They were just two traveling businessmen like so many others, including the man in front of them.
“Can I help you?” the hotel employee said pleasantly when it was their turn.
“You certainly can,” George said with a smile. “I left my room card in the room. My name is Noah Rothauser, and I’m staying in room five-oh-four.”
“Certainly,” the hotel employee said. “Would you mind showing me some identification?”
“Not at all,” George said. He pulled out his wallet and handed over the fake driver’s license.
The hotel employee briefly glanced at it and handed it back. After placing a blank room card in the appropriate slot, he produced a room key, and with a few clicks on his keyboard, he handed it over.
“Much obliged,” George said, brandishing the key.
George and Keyon went to the elevators, making small talk for the benefit of the employee behind the desk. They boarded the car that was waiting. Keyon pressed five. A moment later the door closed and the car rose.
“It’s looking good so far,” Keyon said. “Nice and quiet.”
George nodded but didn’t speak. He was never as calm as Keyon and always felt tense until the action started. He’d had no trouble engaging in the banter, but now that they were alone, he preferred to concentrate on what was going to happen in the next ten minutes and think about possible contingencies.
Arriving at the fifth floor, they stepped out into the main corridor that ran the length of the building. They could see there were exit stairwells at both ends, which could be important if there were problems. No one was in sight.
They exchanged a silent glance, then moved down to room 504 and took up positions on either side of the door. After checking their weapons in their shoulder holsters, Keyon leaned forward and put his ear against the door’s upper panel. He listened for a moment, then gave a thumbs-up sign.
Following a final glance up and down the hallway, George inserted the card key. There was a quiet click and a small green light materialized above the handle. After a final nod between the two, George opened the door and the two men rushed inside the room with their pistols in their hands.
They expected to find Noah in the bed, but it was empty. Using hand signals, Keyon pointed toward the closed bathroom door. George nodded and they repeated the maneuver they had used on the outer door. A moment later they were shocked and dismayed to find the bathroom dark and empty.
“Shit!” Keyon snapped.
“I thought it was going too well,” George said. “The bastard must be down at breakfast.” Both men reholstered their weapons.
They returned to the main part of the room. Keyon closed the outer door, which they had left open in their haste. George took the club chair by the window. Keyon stretched out on the king-size bed after pulling the bedspread up over the pillows. He put his hands comfortably behind his head. They thought it best to wait for Noah’s return rather than seeking him out in the breakfast room.
“How long do you think we should wait?” George asked after just a few minutes. “I don’t like this. He could be off causing trouble already.”
“Let’s give him thirty minutes,” Keyon said. “If he hasn’t shown up, one of us should go down to the breakfast room and reconnoiter.”
“Maybe we should let the home office know there’s been a hiccup,” George said. “Keeping that plane waiting out there at the airport costs a fortune.”
“Let’s just cool it for a half-hour,” Keyon said. “If he doesn’t show up, then we switch to plan B.”
“What’s plan B?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Keyon said with a laugh. “I suppose we’ll just have to stake out the Brazos University Medical Center, where we know he will turn up, unless he’s already there, which I doubt. Of course, we can always hope he’ll use his cell and give us a location.”
40
THURSDAY, AUGUST 17, 9:05 A.M.
Noah paid his tab and stepped out into the sunshine in Brownfield, Texas. The temperature had risen considerably since he’d gone into the restaurant.
He’d slept poorly the previous night despite the two beers he’d had at the bar. The problem had been that he couldn’t stop his mind from wondering what he was going to learn that day, first at Brownfield and then at the Brazos Medical Center. His intuition was telling him it was going to be significant, and he hoped it would be in a positive way, but he worried it might not be.
By 5:30 he’d given up going back to sleep and had gotten up. Something had awakened him at about 5:00. After a shower, he’d gone out to his rent-a-car and set out for Brownfield around 6:30. Although he’d put the Kendrick Public Library in the GPS, he hadn’t needed to because the route was a straight shot southeast down Route 62 that branched off the Lubbock Ring Road, close to where his hotel was located.
Noah seldom had driven on such a straight, flat road, passing through an almost iridescent red, arid landscape. There were several small towns on the way, and Brownfield itself was smaller than he had expected. Route 62, which assumed the name of Lubbock Road and then South First Street once he was in the town, brought him right into the center. The Kendrick Library was on a cross-street.
Noah had pulled up to the library and noticed his was the only car, which he should have taken as a hint he might have been a bit early. Instead he was taken by the library’s appearance, which defied classification. It was a unique, single-story, red-brick structure with steeply gabled roofs sporting several purely decorative dormers. Getting out of the car, Noah was so taken with the building’s appearance that it wasn’t until he got all the way to the front door that he had learned the library didn’t open until 9:00 A.M.
Taking the delayed opening in stride, Noah had driven around the town, passing the high school where Ava had gone when she was presumably Gail Shafter. Nearby, he’d come across a pleasant-looking breakfast place. Having an hour and a half to kill, he had gone in for pancakes and coffee and a chance to read the local weekly newspaper, The Brownfield Gazette.
Once inside the library, Noah went directly to the circulation desk. The middle-aged woman manning the desk was the spitting image of the prim-and-proper but mildly scary woman he remembered as a young child in his own town library. Despite the similarities appearance-wise, the Brownfield librarian was inordinately friendly, directing him to the end room, which she called the “reading room,” to locate the Brownfield High School yearbooks and even offered to accompany him.