Merkaba, a supernatural suspense series (Walk the Right Road, Book 3) (7 page)

Patrick tapped on the open door, peering into the room where a thin maid in a grey, sack-like dress was vacuuming. She jumped when Patrick knocked louder. Her big, dark eyes widened, and her face paled as she stared at Patrick. She pressed her hand to her chest, and he knew she was terrified of him.

He held his hands up to calm her but didn’t step closer. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Alecia’s father.”

She stared, as if confused, and didn’t say a word.

“Alecia, the guest who was beaten up,” he clarified. “I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.… I don’t know anything.” Her face paled. “I have to keep cleaning, sir, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Now, hang on a second. I just want to talk to you. Were you the maid who let Brian into her room?” He watched the scrawny young lady tremble and purse her lips tightly.

Patrick sighed, reached into his pocket, and extracted a fifty-dollar bill. He folded the bill and offered it to her. “It’s just between you and me. No one else will know. I’ll repeat nothing.”

She glanced behind him and then stepped forward, taking the fifty. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize he was trouble. I believed him when he said he was her husband. He was so handsome and didn’t look like someone who would do what he did.”

“That’s exactly how they get you. They’re masters at making you believe they’re harmless. Did he tell you where he had come from, what car he drove?” Patrick wondered for a moment if he’d have to pay her more.

“No, he said he was here to surprise his wife. When the other tall guy told me to open the door after we heard the scream, the first guy pushed past me and ran down the stairs. It happened so fast, but he ran across the street. I heard a car squeal its tires and looked then. It was a white sedan, a brand new one. Oh, wait a second.…” She frowned and then waved a finger in the air. “I’m sure it was a rental car, as it had one of their logos on it.”

It was a place to start, as he thought about it. Rental car agencies had to keep records, and how many places could there be in this area? “Thank you, miss.”

She didn’t offer her name but picked up the vacuum and clicked it on.

Patrick wandered out and back to their room. He knocked on the door and waited, hearing footsteps and someone fumbling with the lock. The door opened, and his wife stared up at him with dark eyes, her shoulder-length brown and gray hair tousled.

“You were sleeping?” He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, but someone soon knocked on it behind him.

They both glanced at each other warily, and Patrick looked in the peephole. “What the…” He yanked open the door. “What are you doing here?”

Chapter 18

“I thought you might want to know that I may have a lead on where Brian is.”

Patrick crossed his arms over his solid chest, and his wife pulled on his arm to move him aside.

“Oh, and where would he be?” Harriet tried to move in front of her husband, but he put out his arm to block her.

“Dad, let him in.”

Everyone turned to where Alecia had wandered from the bedroom, wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. Her long, dark hair hung loose in an untidy mess. The bruises under her eyes appeared darker, and she pressed her hand to her forehead.

Patrick held open the door and allowed Dan to enter. He hesitated and stepped in. He had long legs and solid arms that showed his strength. Patrick had seen lots of good-looking arrogant guys who kept their bodies in good shape, with well-formed muscles. They always had ladies flocking their way. He’d seen many guys like this, and not one had been up to any good. He definitely didn’t want this one messing with his daughter. Patrick gave the door a shove, and it slammed shut. He stared Dan down and waited for him to speak.

“Look … I put some feelers out. He rented a car out of Sequim, and he’s staying in Port Townsend.”

Patrick put his hand on Dan’s shoulder. “Well, you’re going to show me where he is, right now.”

“Dad, I’m coming.” Alecia hurried to grab a sweater.

“No, Alecia, you’re not.” It was her mother who stopped her and then glanced over to Patrick. “Go take care of it so it’s done,” she said.

Patrick grabbed the door and yanked it open. He motioned Dan out and then held the door as he leaned in and kissed Harriet. “Lock the door. Keep her here.”

Harriet nodded.

Dan stayed close to the wall and followed Patrick down the steps. He shoved on a pair of dark glasses. “Let’s take my car.” He motioned to a dark blue sedan with tinted windows.

Patrick glanced over at Alecia’s Jeep, with its open doors that would let everyone see them. He glanced back at Dan, who flushed. “Don’t want to be seen?” Patrick asked. “Just curious, who are you hiding from, and why?”

Dan crossed his arms and ran his hand over his cropped reddish hair. “Look, can we go? I don’t want to be standing out here all day.”

Patrick inclined his head. “By all means, let’s go.”

He climbed in the passenger side. Dan started the engine and pulled out, turned right, and headed toward Port Townsend.

“You never answered me,” Patrick said. “Who are you hiding from?”

“Some people think I’m dead, and I mean to keep it that way.”

Chapter 19

“Are you sure this is where Brian is?” Patrick sat in the darkened sedan outside a large two-story motel. It was quite nice, with large gardens, grass, and trees, and it appeared as though it would have all the usual amenities. He spied a newer white sedan with a rental company logo on it, and he felt his heart kick up a beat. He pointed to an empty spot by the white car. “Park there.”

Dan pulled in and turned off the engine. “So now what?”

“What room is he in?” Patrick asked as he looked through the windshield, waiting to see Brian.

“I don’t know, exactly. One of the lower rooms.”

“Well, let’s go find out.” Patrick grabbed the door handle and stepped out. When Dan didn’t move,
he leaned down and looked into the car. “Are you coming?”

Dan didn’t look Patrick’s way as he opened the door and stepped out. Patrick didn’t miss the way he watched over his shoulder and around him, and he hesitated before walking into the vacant front office. Patrick tapped the bell and heard a rustling in the backroom, and then a young, overweight lady with short, dark hair peeked out, wiping her face and chewing something. She covered her mouth until she swallowed.

“Oh, excuse me. Sorry, I was eating my dinner.” She wiped the crumbs from her face. “How can I help you?”

“A friend of ours is staying here, and we’re supposed to pick him up for dinner, but I forgot his room number. His name is Brian McCormack.” Patrick rested his arm on the counter.

“I’m sorry, sir. We’re not allowed to give out room numbers; it’s against our policy.”

“Maybe you’d be interested in giving the room number to the sheriff.”

Her eyes widened. “He’s not a friend, is he?”

Patrick shook his head and slid twenty dollars across the counter, holding it out as she glanced at it with wide eyes.

“I could lose my job,” she whispered.

“He’s a very bad man, tried to kill my daughter. You’d be doing a service.”

The young girl grabbed the receiver. “I better call my manager.”

Patrick snarled—he couldn’t believe this one had ethics. “Just hang on a second there, darling.”

The young girl was smart as a whip. She held the receiver to her ear but didn’t hang up. “Sir, you try and slip me twenty dollars so I’ll give you a room number for Mr. McCormack so you can go and, what, hurt him, take care of business?” She waved the receiver. “Thanks just the same, but I grew up in this area and recognize trouble when it walks through the door. I’m going to call my manager and let him handle it, because I don’t get paid enough to deal with this crap from a couple thugs.”

Chapter 20

Patrick waited outside the front office. Dan had somehow slipped away by the time the manager had walked through the front door and over to Patrick, and Patrick was forced to tell the middle-aged balding man what Brian had done. He was sure to mention the fact that the police were looking for him, and Patrick called the Sequim detachment and left a message for Diane on her voicemail while the manager called the Port Townsend police to verify that there was, in fact, a warrant out for Brian McCormack. He’d sat on hold for a long time, which did little to calm Patrick. What he had realized was that in this part of the country, the cops didn’t take violence against women seriously, and he had worried for a moment while waiting that Brian was going to get away.

A squad car pulled in and parked by the office before the manager had gotten off the phone. Two male cops climbed out and strode in. The manager scurried around the desk after handing the phone to the young clerk.

“I was still on hold with your precinct. I didn’t realize they were sending a squad car over.”

Patrick crossed his arms and watched as the two cops frowned and glanced at each other.

“We got a 911 call that a man charged with attempted murder in Sequim is staying at this motel,” said the cop, who was over six feet tall and looked as though he pumped steroids. “Whoever called hung up before giving a name. Who called, and who is this man?”

“His name is Brian McCormack, and he broke into my daughter’s hotel room in Sequim and beat her. He would have killed her—”

The other cop, blond and shorter but just as stocky, held his arms out and stopped Patrick before he could finish. “Was it you who called 911?”

“No. I’ve been waiting for quite some time, as the manager here called and has been sitting on hold because you can’t seem to figure out how serious a crime it is when a man tries to beat a woman to death. I’m starting to get the impression that it means nothing in this county.”

The blond cop crossed his arms and adjusted his stance. The bigger cop unclipped his radio from his shirt pocket. “Dispatch, is there a warrant for a Brian McCormack for an assault in Sequim?”

Patrick listened to static until the bigger cop walked outside, and he couldn’t hear the response. “You guys are unbelievable. You park your car right out front so he can see. I’d swear it’s as if you’re giving him the opportunity to slip away.”

The blond cop stepped closer to Patrick. “That’s about enough out of you.”

The other cop stepped back in. “It’s just a domestic disturbance complaint is all.”

“Complaint? Jesus, in all my years, I have never heard such crap. You get your asses up there, and you arrest that bastard.” Patrick jabbed his finger in the air and stepped toward the blond cop, which was a mistake, as the cop’s hand shot out, clamping down on his chest and shoving him back.

“Do you want me to cuff you?” the cop shouted.

Patrick held up his hands. A blue SUV had sped in and parked beside the squad car, and Diane hurried in. When the big cop made a move to block her way at the door, she flashed her badge.

“I’m from the Sequim detachment. I got a message that Brian McCormack is staying here at this motel. I have a warrant for his arrest.”

“Can we speak with you outside?” the bigger cop said.

Diane followed them outside. It appeared as if the two male cops were trying to overpower her, but she shook her head and firmed her lips, and she seemed to Patrick like a woman steeped in anger.

The blond cop yanked open the door and asked in an irritated, clipped tone, “What room is Brian McCormack in?”

The clerk typed something in the computer and said, “Room 101, third from the end.” She grabbed the extra key and tossed it to the cop.

The cop grabbed it with one hand, then jabbed his finger at Patrick when he stepped toward the door. “Stay put.”

Patrick watched through the square, commercial front window as Diane, with the two burly cops, strode to room 101. He watched them knock on the door and then knock harder, but the door slid open as if it hadn’t been closed all the way. Hands on their guns, one on each side of the door, one went in as the other covered, and then Diane followed. A few seconds passed before Diane hurried out of the room with her cell phone pressed to her ear, speaking frantically.

“Something’s wrong,” Patrick said to the manager, who was standing beside him, watching. He pushed open the door and hurried to where Diane paced in front of the open door. She shouted the address of the motel into her phone.

“What’s wrong?” Patrick called.

She shook her head. “He’s been beaten pretty bad. Someone took a baseball bat to him.”

Sirens sounded in the distance, approaching fast. Diane stared at Patrick and then glanced away. “You’d better go,” she warned, and then she turned and walked back inside the motel room.

Patrick crossed the street and started walking. He didn’t know how far he had gotten before a car pulled up beside him and slowed. Patrick glanced at the light blue sedan with darkened windows as it stopped at the curb; he opened the passenger door and climbed in.

“What happened to you?” Patrick glanced at Dan as he shoulder-checked and pulled out into traffic, driving the speed limit, calm and in control. When he slammed on the brakes at a red light, something thudded in the trunk. “What was that?”