Bern climbed out and lumbered into the lobby. Lobec saw him flash his police ID. That seemed to get the clerk’s attention, and he began tapping at the computer’s keyboard. After a few minutes, Bern trotted back out to the car.
“This is it, all right. But they haven’t checked in yet. Probably just getting some dinner first. I’ll bet we have them in less than two hours. What do you think?”
“I will be surprised if it’s this easy.”
“Man, you’re hard to please. Mitch said they made the reservation at this motel six hours ago, guaranteed it with the girl’s credit card. Then they stopped in Baton Rouge for gas two hours ago, also paid with the girl’s credit card. What more do you want?”
“I want them in this car with us. When that happens, I will be satisfied. Not a moment earlier.”
Lobec was right to be cautious. An hour and half passed with no sign of the couple. He was thinking that he’d wait another half hour and no more when his cellular phone beeped.
“Yes.”
“It’s Mitch. Thought you might like to know. Erica Jensen just canceled the reservation at the Best Western. She also just charged $11.58 for gas in Biloxi, Mississippi five minutes ago.”
“Has she made any other reservations?”
“No. But if they stay at another motel without making a guaranteed reservation, all they’ll do is make an imprint tonight. It won’t be run through the machine until tomorrow morning.”
“That’s no good. They’ll be gone before we can get to it. They must be going this way for a reason. Check to see if they have any family or friends in the area.”
“I’m already searching the Biloxi area for matches.”
“No. Search Mississippi, then Alabama, Georgia, and Florida.” Lobec heard muffled curses at the end of the line. “Anything else?
“Yeah. Jensen called the hospital to tell them she wouldn’t be in today or tomorrow. At their apartments, one call was made to each answering machine. The one to Hamilton’s was a guy named Nigel asking if he wanted to grab some dinner. The one to Jensen’s was a telemarketer. Neither machine was checked for messages.”
“Do we have the trace set up?”
“All ready. The machine doesn’t even have to answer. I love Caller ID.”
“Fine. Advise me when you have something.”
Lobec terminated the signal and began to dial another number.
“Who’re you calling?” Bern asked.
“The Gulfstream.”
“We going back to Houston?”
“No. Biloxi.”
CHAPTER 15
For the next day and a half, Kevin and Erica bided their time until the bank opened on Monday morning. They drove around or ate in quiet out of the way restaurants, any place where they wouldn’t see familiar faces, then spent another awkward night in a motel.
Kevin had looked in the phone book on Sunday and found that there were seven First Texas branches within five miles of the campus. Luckily, Daryl was as skillful as he claimed and helped them find the correct branch. Ward had only one deposit box with First Texas, but no accounts or loans. The bank was located in the Village, next to the Rice University campus, and the safe deposit box had been leased only two months before. Ward had used a different bank from the one he normally patroned near South Texas. No one would know he had the box unless they knew where to look. At ten after nine on Monday, Erica stopped the Honda next to the huge bank’s front entrance.
“This shouldn’t take long,” Kevin said, glancing at his watch. He was supposed to be at the graduate school an hour ago to meet with Dean Baker. “Damn!”
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m just ready for this whole business to be over with. I hope your idea works. The last thing we need is for them to call the police.”
“I guess it’s possible the bank officer knows Ward, but I doubt it. They get people opening and closing boxes all the time. This branch is so big, you probably won’t even get the same person that helped him lease the box.”
“Probably. Thanks.” Kevin pulled in a deep breath. “Cross your fingers.”
Kevin stepped out of the Honda and walked into the immense lobby. Even at this early hour, the bank was bustling with activity. Several lines were already forming at the teller windows, and well-dressed men and women moved about with determined authority. Kevin was dressed in a polo-type shirt, khaki pants, and loafers. He had bought the clothes yesterday in the hope that they would make him look more like someone who would have a safe deposit box.
Standing next to the central pillar, a security guard surveyed the lobby in slow glances. Kevin avoided his eyes and walked past. He clasped the fake ID in his pocket tightly.
He approached one of the dozen desks situated near the vault. Seated behind it was a young brunette with a name tag that said “Martha Warsett” and then below it “Management Trainee.” She looked up at Kevin and smile broadly.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“Yes,” Kevin said as he sat. “I would like to get into my safe deposit box.”
She turned toward the terminal on her desk. “Your name.”
This was it. “Michael Ward.” He bounced his foot, praying that she didn’t recognize the name.
She typed the name into the computer. After a second, she turned back to him. “Yes, Mr. Ward. Box 645.”
Kevin stifled a sigh of relief. She didn’t know who Ward really was.
As she opened a drawer to her left to retrieve some papers, she said, “I’ll just need to see two forms of ID and we’ll get you signed in.”
Kevin felt as if he’d been punched in the kidneys.
“I…I only brought my driver’s license.” He pulled the license out of his pocket and showed her.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Ward. We require two IDs. Several incidents of fraud have forced us to make that change. It’s for our customers’ safety. I hope you understand.”
Kevin didn’t want to chance going back to Daryl Grotman and getting another ID made. He’d risk coming back and getting the person who had opened the account for Ward. “I really need to get into my box. My tuition is due today, and I have a bond in my box that I need to cash. Is there any way you can make an exception?”
“I’m sorry, sir. Any form of ID will be acceptable. Credit card, student ID….”
“I’ll have to go all the way back to my apartment, and by that time it’ll be too late…”
Kevin felt a hand grab his left shoulder. “What are you doing here?” a female voice said.
He spun and was stunned to see a short blonde with her hair pinned up, wearing glasses and a dark gray business jacket and skirt. He was speechless, primarily because he didn’t recall ever seeing her before.
“Don’t tell me you forgot me already. We met at Nigel’s party Friday. The jazz band was great, by the way. Sorry you missed it.”
The recollection of the tight black leather dress hit Kevin. He never would have recognized her if she hadn’t spoken to him. Then he remembered her mentioning that she worked in a local bank.
He nodded. “I’m glad.” he said, trying to regain his composure. He glanced at her name tag, which said “Heather Whitcomb” and underneath “Loan Officer.” He hadn’t remembered her name from the party. He hoped her memory was just as bad.
“I mean, I’m sorry too. Of course, I remember you, Heather.”
“Is it Kenneth?” she said.
“No,” Kevin said, smiling. “Mike. Michael Ward.”
“Oops. I think I met about twenty people that night.”
“That’s okay. I cheated.” He pointed to the name tag.
Heather looked down and chuckled. “I didn’t know this was your bank. I’ve never seen you here before.”
“I, uh, just have a safe deposit box here. I opened it a couple of months ago and haven’t been here since.”