Read Thread of Betrayal Online
Authors: Jeff Shelby
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #Hard-Boiled
TWENTY-SEVEN
“If she’s not there, why are we going?” Lauren asked.
We were back in the SUV, heading south on the freeway. Even at that hour, the roads were clogged with traffic. Anchor had called the hotel. No one was registered under the name Ellie Corzine.
“She could be using another name,” I said. “Maybe someone will remember her. It’s following the trail.”
Anchor nodded from the front passenger seat.
Lauren sighed and leaned her head back against the seat.
Finding someone almost always came from following a trail, any trail. The work was in the minute details. Phone calls, emails, interviewing. Talking to people who had talked to whomever you were looking for. Tracking down anything related to the missing person, no matter how small. It was boring, it was tiring and it was tedious. But that was how you found people. You didn’t pass on any opportunities. Because you never knew what you’d find.
We rode in silence and I stared out the window, watching the traffic and the buildings, trying to orient myself to once again being in Southern California. With the freeways and buildings stacked right next to each other, it felt nearly claustrophobic after driving through Utah and Nevada. There was no room to move or breathe.
Kitting directed the car off the freeway and leaned over, whispering something to Anchor. Anchor nodded, glanced in his rearview mirror and nodded again.
The side streets were empty compared to the freeway, the traffic lights creating an uncomfortable ebb and flow as we worked our way westward. The industrial buildings began to give way to bungalow homes, trendy restaurants and coffee shops. We hit PCH and turned south into Redondo Beach and the only glimpse I could get of the Pacific made it look like a massive black pool.
The Crowne Plaza was off North Harbor Drive, an impressive five-story structure surrounded by palm trees. Kitting pulled the SUV under the arches and a bellhop immediately opened Anchor’s door, then mine and Lauren’s. Kitting stayed put.
The bellhop was young, probably college-aged, sporting blond hair, blue eyes and an affable smile. “Checking in, folks?”
“We’ll let you know,” Anchor said, brushing past him.
His smile faded and Lauren and I followed Anchor into an expansive lobby lined with columns and potted palm trees. The white floor tiles were polished smooth.
“I need to make a call,” Anchor said. “Excuse me for a moment.”
I nodded and headed for the check-in desk, where another blonde haired, blue-eyed male smiled at me. “Welcome, folks. Checking in?”
“We’re actually looking for a guest,” I said. “Ellie Corzine.”
“Do you have a room number, sir?” he asked.
“I do not,” I said. “And I actually don’t think she’s staying here.”
He squinted at me. “Excuse me?”
There was no story I could give him other than the truth, so I told him why we were there.
“I just came on an hour ago,” he said when I was done. “I work the overnights. So I don’t think I saw her. Let me grab my manager. Excuse me for just a second.”
He disappeared through a door behind the counter.
I scanned the lobby. Anchor was lounging against one of the columns, talking into his phone.
Lauren was looking around, too. “It’s weird to think she was just here.”
“It is, I agree.”
“Like I can almost feel her here, you know?”
I nodded. It was how I’d felt, standing at the registration desk at the hotel in Denver.
“I mean, I know that sounds stupid,” Lauren said. “But it’s like I can feel her here. Like she was standing right here, the exact same place.” She shook her head. “So strange.”
“Sir?” a voice said behind me.
I turned back to the counter. A woman around my age, dressed in a maroon business suit smiled at me. Large gold earrings hung from her ears and her face was covered with a thick sheen of makeup.
“Sir, I’m Valerie Beltran,” she said. “I’m the night manager here at the Crowne Plaza.”
I introduced myself and Lauren and repeated why we were there.
She nodded thoughtfully. “I checked our guest register. We don’t show anyone listed by that name. And I think I can tell you why.”
“Why?”
“She would’ve needed to provide identification,” Beltran said. “Given what you’ve told me, we would’ve been unable to provide her with a room because she’s under the age of eighteen. That’s our policy.”
“No exceptions?”
“None. Ever.” She shook her head, emphatic. “It’s corporate policy and I can tell you we adhere to it. We regularly have high-school-aged students come here, looking to stay the night for a dance or other activity. Unless there is an adult over the age of eighteen, we cannot and will not accommodate them.”
That made sense. It was a liability issue as well as smart business. If teenagers were trying to snag a hotel room, more than likely, it meant they were looking to do things that might get them in trouble if they tried to do them at home.
“Do you have a policy as to how you handle any minors looking to check-in?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. Generally, we just politely decline them. If they get angry, we remind them that we can call the authorities. That’s usually all it takes.”
“But if a teenage girl shows up here all alone?” Lauren asked. “With no one else and no belongings? You’d just send her away?”
Beltran pursed her lips, then nodded. “Yes. We would. It’s not our place to police. And while I’m not passing judgment on the young girl you’re looking for, you’d be surprised at what kids will attempt to do to obtain a room. They’ll claim to be alone, when they’ve got six friends outside. They’ll claim that their parent is on their way, or that their parents made the reservation. They’ll try to pull every scam you can think of in order to get in here.” She shook her head again. “They can be very resourceful. But our policy is to decline, plain and simple. We don’t police because we can’t.”
Lauren looked away, not bothering to hide her disgust.
I understood what Beltran was saying, though. Elizabeth was the exception rather than the rule. What the front desk saw was a bunch of spoiled teenagers trying to sneak into a room. They didn’t need help or to be policed. They just needed to be sent away. They couldn’t be expected to investigate every kid that walked in and wanted a room.
“Is it possible to find out who she spoke to at the desk?” I asked. “To see if anything was said or if she might’ve said where she was going to go instead?”
Beltran frowned. “I’m not sure we could be of any help.”
“Still. You never know,” I said.
“And I’m not sure the hotel should be involved.”
Lauren turned back to her. “Are you fucking kidding me, lady? We’re asking to talk to an employee about a girl who has been missing for nearly ten years who came to your hotel and you turned her away because of policy. We aren’t looking to tarnish your reputation.” Her eyes narrowed. “And if you don’t let us talk to whomever turned her away, I can guarantee you, I’ll personally call every local TV station and hit every Internet site I can find, letting people know she was here and you dismissed her and then wouldn’t grant a simple interview. What do you think
that
will do to your occupancy rate?”
I couldn’t have said it better myself.
Beltran looked stuck, unsure what to do. She pulled nervously at her earring.
We waited.
“Give me just a moment,” she said, then disappeared through the same door the original desk clerk had gone through.
“Well done,” I said.
“Idiot,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m surprised you haven’t punched out more people.”
“Bail gets expensive.”
“I would’ve wired it to you,” she said.
I glanced across the lobby. Anchor was still on the phone, but he was standing, looking out one of the front windows.
Beltran reappeared. “I’ve located the employee that spoke to the young woman. He’ll be here momentarily.”
“Thank you,” I said.
She nodded. “If we could have you perhaps move over there to the chairs, he’d be happy to speak with you and answer anything he can.”
I nodded and we walked over to where Anchor was standing. He pulled the phone from his ear and punched it off.
He looked at me. “Any luck?”
“We’re waiting to speak with someone who spoke to her,” I said. “But she’s not here.”
“Alright,” he said. “I need to run outside for a moment and chat with Ellis. I’ll be back.” He excused himself and headed out the main entrance.
“What’s his deal now?” Lauren asked.
“No clue,” I answered.
Beltran approached us, accompanied by another college-aged kid, this one stocky, with thick black hair and nervous eyes.
“Mr. Tyler, this is Will Thorton, one of our front desk agents,” she said. “I believe he was the one who had contact with your daughter. He’ll be happy to answer what he can.”
I offered my hand and he shook it unenthusiastically. He nodded at Lauren. She just stared back.
“Young girl was in here just a few hours ago,” I said. “You recall?”
“Yeah,” he said, his expression flat, showing me nothing. “I remember.”
“I assume she was here looking for a room?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yeah. But she didn’t have ID.”
“She give you her name?”
He shook his head.
Lauren pulled out a photo she’d taken from Elizabeth’s room in Minneapolis. “This was her, though?”
He looked at it, waited, then nodded. “Yeah, that was her.”
“So, when she couldn’t produce ID, what happened?” I asked.
Will glanced at Beltran, then looked at me. “Nothing, really. I told her she couldn’t have a room without ID.”
I waited.
He stayed quiet.
“And that was it?” I asked. “She just turned and walked out?”
He glanced again at Beltran, then shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much.”
We all stood there silent. Beer bottles clanked in the bar behind us. A phone rang behind the counter. A horn honked outside.
“Will, I’m going to be very direct,” I said, staring at him. “I think you’re lying your ass off here.”
His face immediately colored and his eyes danced everywhere except near mine. “What? No, I’m not. Really. I don’t…”
“Here’s what I think is happening,” I said, interrupting him. “I think there was more to your interaction with our daughter. I’m not sure what, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t just turn and walk out. See, we know more about what happened to her right before she walked in here and I’m pretty confident she didn’t just say thanks a lot and walk.”
Will chewed hard on his bottom lip.
“And I’m starting to think that whatever you did, it might get you in trouble with your boss here,” I said, glancing at Beltran. “I think you’re worried about saying something in front of her. Because you look like you’ve got spiders crawling up and down your legs, you’re so nervous.”
Will glanced again at Beltran, who was staring at him, her eyebrows raised, waiting on him.
“And here’s the deal,” I continued. “I get it. You don’t want to get in trouble. But let me explain something to you. Outside, there are two guys who brought us here. They like lying even less than we do. And they’ll sit out there and wait for you to leave the hotel and then they’ll insist that you talk to them and you won’t have a choice because they won’t give you one. You’ll tell the truth and believe me when I tell you that it’ll be far worse than anything that Ms. Beltran can do to you.”
Will’s cheeks flushed again and both he and Beltran looked past us, toward the entrance. I knew they didn’t see anyone and they were probably trying to decide if I was lying or not. He was going to be in a world of hurt if he didn’t believe me because I’d turn Anchor loose if that’s what it was going to take.
“Will, if there’s more to say here, I think you should,” Beltran said.
Will caught his lower lip between his teeth, biting down so hard I thought he might draw blood. His eyes shifted between me, Beltran and the big glass doors at the entrance, like he couldn’t figure out which battle he wanted to fight.
He expelled a deep breath. “I passed her to Aaron.”
“Aaron?” I asked.
Beltran’s face soured. “Aaron Simmons?”
Will nodded.
“Who is Aaron and what do you mean passed her?” I asked.
Will shoved his hands in his pockets and went back to chewing on his lip.
“Mr. Simmons is a former employee here,” Beltran said. “He was relieved of his duties about a month ago.”
I nodded, still watching Will Thorton.
He finally sighed. “Okay, alright. Aaron and I have a deal.”
“A deal,” I repeated.
“Girls show up here, I call him,” he explained. “Just give him a shout if they’re single or looking to hook up or whatever. They gotta be hot.”
Beltran’s face was growing redder with each word.