Chapter 25
Michael immediately dismissed Paula Stuart, one of the women Catherine indicated fit the parameters of Reid’s partner. While
she fit the basics on paper, she was barely five foot three with such long, thick red hair that there was no way she was the
woman in the photo. Still, Michael asked her questions about housekeeping in general, what she observed over the weekend.
Michael thanked her, then he and Sloane walked to the main bar, where Alyssa Prescott was just coming on her shift.
Alyssa was thirty-six, tall, blonde, attractive but with a hard edge, as if she had seen everything and nothing fazed her.
She also sported a colorful tattoo sleeve.
“Valdez said you might be coming in for a chat,” she said after Michael introduced himself and Sloane. She looked them both
up and down, offered water, which Sloane accepted.
“Thank you for making the time,” Michael said.
“I really don’t have a choice, do I? Valdez said anyone who gave you guys any shit would be written up.” She put the water in front of Sloane, then turned to a tray and started to efficiently wedge limes and lemons.
Her confrontational attitude surprised Michael. “Have you met Garrett Reid?”
“Yep, it’s not that big of a place, and he works maintenance. He also used to be a bartender, and we chatted a few times when
he came in to fix the ice machine, which goes out at least once a month.”
“What did you chat about?” Michael asked.
She shrugged. “This and that. Nothing serious. Pros and cons of working the bar. Dealing with guests, management, whatever.”
She finished with the citrus, placed the pieces in the appropriate trays, and then pulled out a box of cocktail napkins and
set them up at strategic intervals along the bar.
“He has nearly every drink memorized. I asked him why he didn’t want to work the bar. He said he liked to fix things.” She
shrugged, squatted and straightened the bottles behind the bar.
“Did you like him?” Sloane asked.
“I didn’t want to screw him, if that’s what you mean.”
“I didn’t mean anything,” Sloane said. “Most people we’ve spoken with said he was friendly and personable. Did you agree?”
Alyssa looked at Sloane as if considering a response. “Look, if I told you I think he was a creep, you wouldn’t believe me
because probably everyone now remembers something that makes them like him less. But truth? He was fine. He didn’t hit on
me, which I can’t say the same for a lot of the staff. He was chatty and smart.”
“But?” Sloane said.
“It’s just a feeling, and it’s not something I can really quantify.”
“I’m interested in your feelings.”
“Garrett is a great conversationalist, and he knows a lot of shit, always willing to help out, whatever.” She leaned against the bar and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “But if you really look at him, like make eye contact? There’s something .
. . calculating there. Like he’s cataloging you and putting you into a prelabeled box.
I mean, we all do it when you work in the service industry.
We shelve people into good tippers, assholes, drunks, complainers—it’s probably not fair, but when you work with a lot of people every day of your adult life, there’s a dozen categories that everyone will fall into.
But with Garrett it was . . . different.
I can’t explain it any better than that.
And it doesn’t help you keep him in jail, does it? ”
“It’s good insight,” Michael said. “Were you familiar with the guests who went missing?”
“The second couple,” she said. “They came in several nights when I was working. Both drank maybe one too many, but they were
happy drunks. Cute together, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
“Was anyone watching them? Giving them undue interest?” Michael asked.
She stared at him. “You arrested Garrett. Who else are you looking at?”
“We believe that Garrett is working with a partner,” Michael said, gauging her reaction.
“Really? Wow. Garrett? For a guy who was that good-looking and friendly, he was a loner.”
“It may not have been someone who was seen with Garrett.”
“Staff often comes in after shift for a beer, to chat with me or Doug, because usually one of us is on until closing. If the
weather is crappy, we’re crowded. If it’s nice, most people go out to the poolside bar. I wouldn’t have noticed unless someone
was being rude or something.”
Michael put the photo down in front of Alyssa. “Do you recognize this person?”
Alyssa shook her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t think she works here.”
Michael and Sloane exchanged glances. Alyssa was the first person who immediately thought female when she saw the photo, without prompting.
“I’ve only been here a year, but I know most of the staff, and there’s only three women who work in Maintenance—none of them
have her build.”
Michael took the picture back. “Thank you for your time.”
They left the bar and walked back to the main building, where the gym took up the southwest wing. The concierge waved at them.
When they approached his desk, he said, “Alena called in ten minutes ago. I gave her your message. She should be back in her
office in less than an hour, but if you need her immediately, she was in the main ballroom working with an event planner.”
“We’ll come back. Thank you.”
Instead, they headed to the gym to talk to Hope Davidson again.
Hope was straightening towels on the shelves in the gym lobby. Six or seven guests were working out on the equipment, and
a game of racquetball could be faintly heard in the background.
“Agent Harris,” Hope said. “Do you need something?” She glanced at the clock. “I’m getting off in a few minutes.”
“We’re following up with everyone we already spoke with, just to clarify a few things,” Michael said.
“Oh. You don’t mind if I keep working? I have plans and don’t want to work late.”
“Go ahead,” Michael said.
She finished folding towels and made sure they were perfectly straight in the shelving unit.
Michael confirmed everything she’d already told him about Matt and Kara’s morning before they disappeared. She moved over
to the free weights, grabbed a bottle of disinfectant and a rag, and cleaned each one individually.
“Do you remember the Blairs and the Avilas?” According to her employee file, she had started working here two months after the Hendersons were killed, and only a week before the Blairs went missing.
“Those are the missing couples, right?”
“They were murdered,” Michael said.
She shook her head and frowned. “So awful.”
“Did any of them come into the gym?”
She shrugged, carefully put a heavy weight into its appropriate slot. “Maybe. I really don’t remember. Maybe if you had pictures?”
Sloane pulled out her phone and showed Hope photos of the Blairs, then the Avilas. Hope tapped on the second picture. “She
came in for yoga once when I was working. I just said hello and goodbye, didn’t have a conversation with her.”
“You don’t recognize the others?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
She grabbed a clean rag and walked over to the window separating the now-empty yoga room from the main gym. She sprayed and
wiped.
“I have a photo if you can look at it?” Michael asked.
She stopped for a minute, looked at him expectantly. He showed her the woman dressed as a maintenance worker. “Do you recognize
this person?”
She shook her head. “No. Sorry.” She went back to cleaning with a quick glance at the clock. “I have ten minutes until I’m
off, and I need to clean the women’s locker room. Do you want me to stop at Brian’s office on my way out? Are you still using
it?”
“That’s not necessary,” Michael said. “Just one more question. You mentioned you didn’t really talk to Garrett Reid since
you started working here, correct?”
“Yeah. Just a few times, in passing.”
“Did you ever see him with anyone? Like a girlfriend?”
“No,” she said. “I only saw him when he was working.”
“Thank you again for your time. I’ll call if I need anything else.”
“Great.” She gave them a quick smile, then headed to the women’s locker room.
When Michael and Sloane were back in the security office, Sloane said, “She was off.”
“How?” he asked, grabbing a water bottle from the mini-fridge. “She didn’t contradict her previous statement in any way.”
“She was busy when we were talking to her, but there was really nothing she was doing that couldn’t wait five minutes. For
example, she folded already neat towels. She cleaned already clean equipment. She kept looking at the clock.”
“She said her shift was almost over.”
“It all had the feeling of nerves to me.”
Michael thought a moment. “She didn’t seem nervous when I spoke with her yesterday, and I didn’t notice she was nervous today.”
“Where’s her application?” Sloane asked.
Michael sorted through the employee files that Brian had retrieved for them. “Here.” He slid it over to Sloane since he didn’t
know what she was looking for.
She opened it, skimmed the sheets. “It says here she’s from Las Vegas, Nevada . . . has worked in a variety of hotels . . .
bingo.”
“What do you see?”
“Her references. She has some holes in her employment history, but look—she worked in Nashville when Reid was there. It’s
not the same place, but . . .” She frowned, pulled out her phone and typed something.
Michael leaned over and read the file. “You think they met there?”
“Maybe,” she said as she scrolled. “Okay—yes—she worked at Fitness Square, which sounds like a business, right? And she didn’t include an address, only a phone number.
But Fitness Square is actually the name of the gym at the resort where Reid worked.
” She jumped up, opened the whiteboard where Ryder had written the Garrett Reid timeline.
“She started there three months after Reid, and left only two weeks before he did. This could be it. This could be where their paths crossed.”
“Where was she the year Reid was unemployed?”
“She worked at a restaurant in a Dallas hotel.”
“And after? When Reid was in New Orleans?”