Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
As Liam's car pulled out of the lot, my phone rang. I didn't recognize the number. "Hello?" I asked warily.
"It's me," Morgan said.
"Why are you calling me from an unknown number?"
"Because something happened."
"What happened? Are you okay?" I asked, worry shooting through me.
"I'm fine. Are you still with Liam?"
"No, he just left. I was about to call you. What's going on?"
"I'll tell you, but you need to go to a store now. Get a prepaid phone. Write down this number. When you get the new phone, call me back on this number."
Morgan ended the call before I could say another word.
I had no idea what was going on, but I needed to do as she'd instructed.
Clearly, she was worried about our phones, which made me wonder again what had happened.
I looked up a store online and found one just a few miles away, so I started the engine and headed there, my mind racing with questions.
After buying the phone, I got back into the Jeep, which I'd parked in the middle of a busy retail lot, and called Morgan back. "I'm here. Now tell me what happened."
"I went out to get a coffee about an hour ago," Morgan said.
"I saw someone sitting in a car in front of the hotel.
I didn't think much about it until I walked down the street, and the car followed me.
I wasn't sure what was going on at that point.
I got a coffee and a snack, and then I went back to the hotel.
When I got inside the lobby, I looked out the window, and the car was parking in front of the hotel again. "
"That's not good. Let me call Barclay—"
"You don't need to do that yet," she interrupted.
"I packed up our stuff, and I used the back exit of the hotel to catch a ride to another hotel.
The car didn't follow me. I don't think they know I left.
I didn't check out, just in case someone at the front desk leaked information about us. But you shouldn't go back there."
"Okay. I'm sorry you had to deal with all that on your own."
"Well, I did get a little panicked," Morgan admitted.
"But I knew what needed to be done. I picked up a prepaid phone, got some cash out of an ATM, as well as some food, and now, I'm back in a new room in a big hotel where I feel wonderfully anonymous.
The clerk barely looked at me when I checked in.
I also paid cash for one night, so I didn't use a credit card. "
"I'm impressed."
"It spooked me that someone had found us. I was worried that they were tracking our location through our phones, so I turned mine off before I got to the new hotel. You should do the same before you come here."
"I will. Did you see who the driver was? Did you get a license plate?"
"I didn't see the driver. All I saw was a baseball cap. I couldn't even tell you if it was a man or a woman. But I did get the plate. Maybe you can have Barclay run it." She rattled off a list of numbers, and I grabbed a pen and a piece of paper from my bag and jotted it down.
"What hotel are you at?" I asked.
"It's a big chain hotel, but I think you were right, Tessa. We should stay apart. You should go somewhere else."
"Okay. I'll find a place after I talk to Barclay."
"Now, tell me what happened with Liam."
"He gave me some information on Ray, Paige's brother." I gave Morgan a short recap, then said, "I think we need to move Ray up the suspect list."
"The debts fit with Ray dropping out of school and the family falling on hard financial times. Maybe his family ended up helping him out after Paige died."
"Must have been a large debt."
"Maybe it was. Ray's problems might also explain why the mom fell apart.
Her oldest daughter was dead. Her son was in trouble.
She had to move. She probably felt too mentally unstable to go back to work.
Alina was also probably left on her own a lot," I added.
"She wants to know now not only why Paige died but why her whole world fell apart. "
"Agreed," Morgan said. "Did Liam say anything else?"
"No. He was a little kinder this time than he was the last time, but we didn't talk about anything except Paige and Ray."
"I'm glad it was helpful, and he didn't turn out to be dangerous."
"Me, too. Barclay said he'd be home around five, and it's almost that now so I'll probably go straight there to drop off his Jeep. I'll have him check the license plate. Maybe he can also look at traffic cams in the area or any cameras from the hotel. This car could be a huge clue."
"That would be good. What do you want to do about the podcast since we're not together at the moment?"
"I don't know. Let's figure that out later. Call me if anything else happens."
"I will. You do the same."
As I put down the phone, I looked around the crowded parking lot, which was filled with cars and strangers. Had someone been following me around? I should have been paying closer attention. That was going to change now.
Colton Barclay lived in a two-story apartment building in Rogers Park which bordered Evanston, giving him an easy commute to work but a slightly more urban neighborhood.
He lived on the second floor of an older U-shaped building with a courtyard in the middle, and apartment doors leading off exterior hallways.
It was almost five-thirty when I arrived, and I gave his door a sharp tap, looking over my shoulder as I'd been doing every minute of the twenty minutes it had taken me to drive from the retail center to here.
When Colton opened the door, he looked very different than he had earlier in the day, wearing dark jeans and a T-shirt with a Cubs logo. He looked younger, approachable, and even a little more attractive, but I wasn't going to think about that.
I held out his keys. "You're finally getting your car back."
"Thanks." He took the keys and waved me inside.
His apartment looked very sports-oriented with a basketball on the brown leather couch, and a baseball bat in the corner alongside a very well-used mitt.
He had a big-screen TV that dominated most of the space in the living room, with a small kitchen and dining area, and a hallway presumably leading to a bedroom.
As he tossed his keys onto the coffee table, I paused by a weathered hall table holding some framed family photographs and one taken at Wrigley Field, which was home to the Cubs. "Is this you?" I asked, pointing to the boy holding a baseball next to one of the players.
"That's me. I was in the outfield bleachers, and I caught a game-winning home run ball."
"Is the guy standing next to you the one who hit the ball?" I asked.
"Yes. He signed it for me."
"Do you still have it?"
"It's in my bedroom," he admitted with a somewhat sheepish smile.
"Interesting. So, you're a baseball fan?"
"I like most sports. Have a seat. You want something to drink?"
"That sounds good. What do you have?"
"Water, juice, beer."
"I'll take a beer."
"Interesting. You seem more like a wine drinker."
"That doesn't say a lot for your investigative skills, Detective Barclay," I said dryly as I sat on the couch. "Plus, you didn't offer me wine, and I could use a drink."
He smiled and grabbed two beers out of the fridge. After handing one to me, he took the chair next to the sofa. "Would wine have been your first choice?"
"Maybe. But I like beer, too. My father is a big beer drinker. Any time he has to pick a restaurant, it's always a brewery."
"Does he live in Chicago?"
"He's a nomad. He's a musician, and he goes where the gigs are." I took a sip of beer and let out a sigh. "This tastes good."
"Dare I ask why you needed a drink?"
"A lot of reasons, Detective."
"Why don't you call me Colton? We're sharing a drink in my living room, and you have been driving my Jeep all day. I think we can dismiss the formalities, Tessa."
"Okay, Colton. Before we get into me and my day, I'd like to know what you've learned about Detective Cabot's death."
His expression turned tense, and I was almost sorry I'd brought it up, because I'd been enjoying the last few stress-free moments.
"There was no other vehicle or person seen in front of Vincent's house after Hale left around two thirty until we got there just after six."
"Then how did they get in?"
"They could have parked on the street behind the house and entered the property through a gap in the back fence.
Unfortunately, the street behind his house has apartment buildings and a lot of cars coming and going.
We haven't been able to pinpoint a specific vehicle or individual, but the investigation is just beginning.
We'll find who killed him. I can promise you that. "
"I hope so, because I'm pretty sure whoever killed him also killed Paige. I know you're going to tell me there's still no proof of that, but—"
"I'm not going to tell you that," he cut in. "Vincent took his personal case notes home with him when he retired, and in the mess left behind by his killer, we located some of his notes from the investigation."
"Oh, my God! Really? What did you learn?"
"Tessa, there's only so much I can share with you," he warned. "I can't risk you taking information I give you and putting it on your podcast. That would jeopardize my investigation."
"What if I promise not to put anything out there that you don't approve of?"
"Why would you do that? You're looking for views, aren't you? Being able to share the inside story? I saw your video about being at Cabot's house. That didn't go down well with my boss."
"I was vague about it."
"Which was appreciated. But you have to understand there are lines I can't cross."
"I do understand, Colton."
He let out a sigh. "I think I'm going to be sorry I suggested we drop my official title."
"I just want to get to the truth. And the more I know, the more I can help you. I'll be an unofficial advisor with an inside track. You can trust me to keep my promise, to keep things private. There are things I can say that have nothing to do with you, too."
"What kind of things?"