Chapter 8
They stopped at Peter’s crippled truck to pick up his duffel, KT’s work backpack, and Ellie’s school bag, which she’d dropped on the grass. He left the keys above the sun visor. He’d already called a tow service.
Trailed by two police cruisers, they drove to KT’s place to grab a change of clothes and toiletries, Durant and his driver in the front, Peter and Katelyn and Eleanor stuffed into the back.
Without Peter needing to ask, the uniforms checked the house before KT and Ellie went inside.
It made him like Durant more. Overnight bags packed, they drove three miles to the Marco Polo Motel on Aurora Avenue with the patrol cars still in their wake.
KT gave Peter a look. “Of all the hotels in the area, this is the place you picked?”
At least the parking lot was well-lit. He would have preferred something with actual security, but it was the only place he could find that took cash without swiping a credit card. It also had the bonus of adjoining rooms. Despite Durant’s reassurance, Peter was still feeling paranoid.
“Not a lot of vacancies on short notice,” he said. “It’s only for one night. If you don’t feel comfortable going home tomorrow, we’ll find a better place.”
As Peter opened his door, Durant said, “Detective Kitzinger has assigned a patrol officer to keep watch as long as he can. I can’t guarantee how long he’ll stay. Like I said, we’re understaffed already.”
Peter understood. Seattle was a big city with big city problems. “Much appreciated,” he said. “And thanks again for the lift.”
“Happy to help. Ms. Thorsen, I’m guessing we’ll connect sometime tomorrow. If the bosses okay it, I’ll brief you on what we’ve learned about Geoffrey Reed.”
KT leaned forward and patted him on the shoulder. “Thank you, Captain. I’ve got your number.”
Durant gave her a look. “Just don’t make me regret my generosity. And check your mattresses for bedbugs.”
—
One cruiser waited in the parking lot while they went into the motel office.
It was nicer than Peter had hoped, with paint recent enough that he could still smell it.
The clerk was an older guy with acne scars, a bow tie, and a handheld video game on the counter by the computer.
He was entirely uninterested in his customers, which was exactly how Peter liked it.
He paid for two rooms with cash, including a large refundable deposit, which left about eighty bucks in his wallet.
The clerk handed them the keys. “First floor, halfway down. No loud parties, please. Enjoy your stay.”
The rain had stopped. They found the rooms and Peter got KT and Ellie inside, then raised his hand to the cruiser. The officer nodded through the windshield and backed the car into a spot a few doors down.
Peter stepped into his room, threw the deadbolt and put on the chain, then pulled the curtains over the picture window.
The place was basic but clean. Two queen beds with a nightstand between them, a particleboard dresser with a small TV bolted to the top.
The white static flared slightly at the covered window, but he would live with it.
His chest still ached where the plate had stopped the bullet.
He dropped his duffel on the dresser, then opened the connecting door on his side. KT’s side was already open.
She lay on the bed with her shoes off and her daughter curled up against her. He was glad to see she’d pulled the curtains and locked the door, too.
“We were thinking pizza,” she said. “El likes Pagliacci.”
Suddenly Peter was starving. “Excellent plan. Get two larges, whatever toppings you guys like. Give them my room number and tell them we’ll pay cash. And use Ellie’s cell, just in case.”
Ellie leapt up and woke her phone, fingers flying as she ordered online. KT turned to Peter, her voice low. “Are you seriously concerned that there might be someone else after us? Even with the patrol car outside?”
Peter wasn’t going to tell her about the weird feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought about the threat letter. We are Legion. There was no reason to scare them. “I’m just being cautious. We’re probably fine. Humor me, okay?”
The way KT stared at him, he knew she wasn’t buying it. “Ellie, I need to tell you something important. Are you listening?” Her voice was serious, a mom who meant business.
Ellie looked up from her screen. “I’m listening.”
“If anything happens to me, if we get separated for any reason? You can trust Peter. You stick with him like glue, and you do exactly what he tells you to do, no matter what. Do you understand?”
Ellie blinked, her voice small. “What would happen to you?”
KT reached out and put a hand on her daughter’s arm. “Nothing, honey. I’m saying, just in case. You can trust Peter. Do you understand?”
Ellie nodded. “I understand.”
“Good. Now how long until that pizza gets here?”
Ellie glanced at her phone. “Forty minutes.” Her eyes flicked to Peter. “I hope you like meatballs.”
He remembered her calling him “meatball” at her school. Now she was riffing on that, messing with him. Despite his own concerns and KT’s warning to her daughter, he felt something loosen in his chest. She’d be okay.
“Are you kidding? Meatballs are my favorite.” He turned to KT. “I’m going to get cleaned up and call June.” Although he’d texted her several times since the cops had shown up, he owed her a call. “Leave the connecting door open, okay?”
—
After a long, hot shower and toweling himself dry, Peter examined the bruise on his chest where the bullet had hit his vest. It was deep purple and tender to the touch.
It wasn’t his first time taking a round to the armor, and he knew it would be sore for several days.
But he also knew he’d live, so he pulled on clean hiking pants and a Counterbalance Brewing T-shirt, found his phone on the sink, and called June.
She answered on the first ring. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.” He walked into the bedroom and dropped himself on the bed. “Sorry it took so long. The cops kept us awhile.”
“I knew they would. Are you doing okay?”
Peter felt his defenses fall away, as they always did with her. “I’m still standing,” he said.
“That doesn’t sound good.” She knew him so well. “Talk to me, Marine.”
He’d already given her the basics over text.
Now he walked her through the whole story, the amateur in cheap sneakers waiting at KT’s car, picking up Ellie at school on foot, the amateur—Geoffrey Reed—reappearing at Peter’s pickup, shooting Peter in the chest but hitting the armor. Then the scramble to escape.
“The guy was wound pretty tight. I was worried about KT and Ellie, and about civilians catching a stray round. But I should have been more aggressive.”
“Everything turned out all right, didn’t it? I’m just glad you were wearing that vest. I’ll buy you a new one for Christmas.”
“Nothing says Merry Christmas like ballistic armor.” Peter sighed. “I just don’t get why he wanted to kill her to begin with.”
“Well, he ended his little adventure by shooting himself, so he probably wasn’t quite right in the head.
I’ll plug him into my databases and see what I can come up with.
Hey, remind KT to send me what she’s working on.
I’m coming to Seattle tomorrow, but I want to use the flight time to see if I can help figure out what triggered Reed. ”
Peter lowered the phone and raised his voice. “Hey, KT, did you send those files to June yet?”
“Working on it now,” KT called.
Peter passed the message. “Also, why did Reed bother to write that threat letter if he was going to try to kill her later that day?”
“That’s actually a good question,” June said.
“We tend to think that disturbed people are just crazy, but usually there’s an internal logic to their actions, even if we can’t see it.
” In order to write a book about a Nebraska serial killer, June had studied up on abnormal psychology.
She joked that it helped her deal with Peter, too.
Now she said, “Did you have anything to eat?”
“Pizza’s coming.” He glanced at the time. “Should be any minute now.”
He heard a faint knock from the adjoining room. KT shouted, “Eleanor, dinner’s here!”
Through the opening between the rooms, he saw KT walk toward the door, hair wet, wearing leggings and an oversized Minnesota sweatshirt.
To June, he said, “I’ll call you back,” and stuffed his phone in his pocket.
Then he called out to KT, “Wait, let me get it.” He’d told Ellie to give the pizza guy his room number, but evidently she’d forgotten.
He hauled himself off the bed, feeling the adrenaline hangover.
He was still barefoot. “Katelyn, wait, please.”
“I’m just going to peek through the curtain.”
Then he heard the sound of breaking glass.