Pop Travel (9 page)

After getting halfway through and finding nothing, he grimaced again at this roadblock. With the lockers unlabeled and nothing left out, he felt discouraged and ready to give up. Then, his stubbornness took over. There had to be something! A few more rows and he noticed one locker door not completely flush with the rest. He jiggled it and it opened.

Inside, Cooper went through the purse and found a keychain with a scrollwork letter
A
. It had to be Audrey’s. Maybe he’d found some luck. He went through the rest of the contents of the locker, felt inside her shoes, and then checked her purse again. Nothing. He heaved a sigh.
Come on, Audrey. Tell me you left me something!

In the Security office, Joel adjusted and readjusted his glasses every five seconds as he finished giving his account of what happened to an agent. His stomach gurgled, and he twisted his face. He hated lying. Even just omitting the truth brought on his acid reflux.

As he turned toward his station, he caught a glimpse of Cooper searching a locker on one of his monitors. With his eyes wide, he motioned for Trey, at the next desk, to switch the screen before an agent noticed Cooper snooping.

When Joel reached his desk, he leaned over and told Trey to get Cooper out of there. No sooner did Trey get permission from the Feds to be excused than Joel noticed a pair of agents in the Concourse A camera walking up the hall toward the locker room. The agents he just spoke with must have informed their colleagues about Audrey going to her locker before the incident. They would be at the locker room in a few minutes. Joel hoped Trey would be able to intercept the agents in the hall before they found Cooper.

Cooper knew he pushed his luck staying in there so long, but he wasn’t ready to give up yet. He grunted at the locker and punched it in frustration. He was so close and didn’t want to go away with nothing, especially since Audrey had died trying to help. The least he could do was risk getting caught to find whatever might still be there before the FBI did.

He felt along all the inner parts of the locker. The sides, the top, the lips of the door, and finally, he found something. Underneath the upper shelf, he felt a metal box stuck to it. Inside were two stick drives.

Cooper’s ears twitched at the squeak of the door. Someone had come in. Cooper took the drives and dropped the little metal box into Audrey’s purse. He quickly reassembled the rest of the contents and shut the locker. When he finished, he stood and listened. Nothing.

Knowing someone stalked him there, hiding and watching, Cooper stretched his arms up and reached down behind his head to scratch the base of his neck. He released the tiny cylindrical drives into the back of his tucked shirt.

Turning to leave, he heard the door open again. This time there were footsteps and voices.

Greeting them as if he belonged there, Cooper met the two agents and two security guards who had come in together.

“Hey, guys.”

“Didn’t we talk to you at the crime scene?” one of the agents asked.

“Hey, Cooper,” a Security guard cut in before Cooper could answer.

“Hey, Trey,” Cooper said, seeing the guy’s name on his badge. “I found this outside the door and thought the owner might be in here.” He held out the badge he had pilfered. “I guess not. The place was empty. I’ll let you take care of it, Trey.” Cooper handed him the badge.

“Thanks.” Trey took it and looked it over. “Nolan won’t get far without it. I’ll make sure he gets it.”

“Well, it’s getting late. I guess I’d better get going,” Cooper said. “Tell Gordy I’ll call him. Can’t believe what happened. I’m so sorry for your loss. Terrible tragedy. Hope you find out what caused it.”

“Yeah. I can’t believe it either. She was a great boss. See ya, Cooper.” Trey frowned and looked at the floor. The agents nodded and had Trey take them to Audrey’s locker.

Cooper didn’t stick around. He took the escalator up to the Atrium. Glancing back, he couldn’t shake the nagging presence of a tag-along. His peripheral vision confirmed it. A few yards behind him, a travelport employee kept pace with him. Cooper took a few random turns. The guy passed by but never left his range. This could be the same guy who took care of Audrey.

When Cooper reached the exit, he got into a microcab. As it pulled away, he turned back and no cars followed, no sign of his tail.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

“Downtown. A decent hotel. How about the Embassy Suites?” Cooper said as he sank into the seat, relieved to leave the travelport and death and spies behind him.

Cooper closed his eyes.
What have I gotten myself into?
He had instigated a murder! Checking the rear window, Cooper felt confident no cars were following him. Seeing the cab cam in the ceiling, he realized they didn’t need to.

He reached behind his back and felt the cool metal of the tiny rods at the waist of his shirt.
What could be on the drives worth killing for?
Once he had a chance to sit and digest everything, he could figure out what to do next. He laid his head back and tried to get a grip on everything that had just happened.

After sending Blake home for the evening, Nate watched Mr. Cooper rest in the cab. When the tired detective got to the hotel, Nate switched over to the lobby cameras. As Mr. Cooper waited to check in, he rubbed his back like an old man. The poor guy looked beat. Obviously, the excitement and gore had taken a lot out of the small-town detective. Mr. Cooper probably moved to Walnut Grove to get away from the big, scary city and would be running back home by lunch tomorrow. Nate laughed as the camera followed him into the lounge.

“He already needs a drink,” Nate said. “Once a drunk…”

Seeing the small cameras all over the lobby reminded Cooper of the constant surveillance. He had to get used to the feeling of being watched. Audrey’s death proved someone had been paying attention to his business. If he had been suspicious of it before, he would have been more careful and she might still be alive. He had to assume whoever watched him had access to any webcam video feeds they wanted. There really was no place to hide. Thinking about the possible depths of deception made his head hurt. He craved his own bed in Walnut Grove, but he would have to settle for the comforts of a hotel room.

After checking in at a kiosk, Cooper headed straight for the bar, but just for food. His stomach demanded nourishment. Confusion and questions concerning the recent events crowded his brain, but hunger distracted him. For now, he needed to put disturbing thoughts aside. He had to sit and eat.

The old hotel’s once bright and tropical lounge, open to the floors above, had become faded and dismal. A few other patrons sat at the tables, enjoying the somber music and tranquil atmosphere. Cooper expected a bigger crowd for happy hour. It suited him just fine to have the bar all to himself.

After ordering his meal, he went to the restroom. Retrieving the stick drives from his shirt, he slipped one into a link of his silver QV wristband for safekeeping and the other into his pocket, separating them. Just in case he got into trouble, he could offer up one of the drives and not lose them both. He felt like a covert operative.

When he returned to the bar, he left Miki a message, letting her know he would be staying in Atlanta for one or two nights and would check in with her the next day.

As he finished his burger, the news came on the old plasma TV hanging over the bar.

“You done with that?” the bartender asked.

“Sure. I’ll take another Diet Coke, if you don’t mind,” he added and pointed at his glass.

“No problem.” The bartender refilled it. “How long you been clean?” he asked.

“Two years, four months, five days. How’d you know?”

“Eight years, five months, twenty days. You’re sitting alone at a bar and you’re not drinking. Lucky guess.” He wiped off his hand and offered it to Cooper, who shook it.

“So you schlepping it isn’t a temptation?” he asked.

“Working here actually helps. You should see some of the assholes who come through. Especially with the nudie bars around here.”

“Ah. I bet.” Cooper nodded. On the TV, he caught the last bit of the top story covering the death at the travelport. “Could you turn that up?”

“Sure.” The bartender adjusted the volume. It sounded like they were ruling it an accident and moving on. Nothing to see here. Audrey deserved better than that. But they rolled right into the next story, about a local accountant who had wrapped his car around a tree somewhere outside the city limits. When they announced Jonathan Phisner’s name, Cooper had to steady himself, grabbing the bar to keep from falling off his stool.
Phisner? What the hell!
Cooper hoped the bartender hadn’t noticed his reaction.

The anchorwoman said the police were gathering evidence to determine if it might have been a suicide or a case of drunk driving. Either way, alcohol was involved. They rehashed Phisner’s tragic story, insinuating he had been carrying around plenty of guilt about the unproven murder of his fiancée, Aleesa Kingston. Now they would never know.

Poor Phisner had been right all along. Cooper swallowed hard.

Though Cooper kept a straight face, the bartender could tell something bothered him.

“Did you know that guy?” he asked.

“Sort of. I think he worked at the firm that does my taxes.” Cooper shrugged. That sounded good.

“Too bad. One more reason to stay clean,” the bartender commented.

“Amen,” Cooper agreed. Though he felt like having a double.