Once Brad Ashton was in the safety of his hotel, the security guys were free to do what they liked, more or less. Mostly that involved the bar and football, though talk of the upcoming basketball season was also prevalent. There was one guy who always stayed behind, but he seemed to be more of a PR guy or agent, not a security guy. He was probably just a manager with a thing for the little earpieces.
I knew which one I was going to kill.
Henry Jefferson. He joined the group about six months ago, which made him the least senior, the least tight with the group, and the least likely anyone would go looking for when he disappeared. He also lived alone, didn’t seem to have a lot of close friends, and would probably go a few days before anyone missed him.
In a week they would be in Cleveland, which was just about the right distance. The timing was also perfect – right before the holidays, a time when everyone would be busy with other concerns, which could buy me a little more time before his death was discovered. Three days after New Year’s they would head for Atlanta, which was where I planned to end Ashton.
Up close and personal.
Probably more personal than I cared to be, but I had to do what I had to do.
I hung out on a bench in the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton in Cleveland. The bench was off to the side – near the gift shop – and an unlikely place for Jim or anyone else to notice me. I hadn’t gotten an actual room since I didn’t plan on staying long. I only needed to do a quick job and then get back on the road as early as possible. I wanted to be home before midnight.
I hadn’t picked up Bridgett recently, and I was in the mood to fuck.
Patiently waiting, I watched various people go by. Families on vacation, college-aged couples with Rock and Roll Hall of Fame T-shirts, and uncountable businessmen and women wandered through the lobby on their way to the elevator, the lounge, or to inquire at the front desk about their valet parking voucher.
None of them seemed to notice me in my business-casual Dockers and navy button down. I blended in, sat back, sipped at a bottle of Evian, and waited.
There he was.
Like he had most days, Henry Jefferson came back to the hotel around lunchtime to sleep. His was the overnight detail, and his shift officially ended at nine o’clock in the morning. He would go find a place for breakfast before going back to the hotel to sleep.
I stood and followed him into the elevator.
As he tapped his finger against the round button with the number seven on it, he blew out a long breath and grumbled. Taking a step back, he gave way for me to hit my own number, but I just smiled slightly and nodded at the already indicated floor.
There was something definitely off about his behavior.
Every time I had observed him before, he had the typical calm and quiet demeanor of a career security guy. He kept his hands behind his back except when he needed to put one of them up to his ear piece to look super cool. His suits were tailored, his shoes shined, and though it wasn’t in his history, he probably would have made a decent Marine.
Jefferson was either really tired or agitated. He rubbed at the corner of his eye once, sighed twice between the first and seventh floors, and stared at the elevator door as if he was expecting it to try to clamp down on his arm. He tapped his toe a lot, and his hands kept gripping into fists.
Something had pissed him off. Not part of my plan but rather handy. If I had the good fortune enough for him to have had some kind of incident either at work or with a coworker, my plan was going to be even smoother than originally intended. There was nothing better than a convenient patsy.
The elevator chime went off, the doors opened, and despite the glare, Jefferson’s arm wasn’t captured by the machine. I still smiled a bit at the mental imagery and followed him quietly out of the car. He glanced over his shoulder once but didn’t pay any attention to me afterwards, so I stayed fairly close.
Some security guard.
Maybe he wouldn’t have made a decent marine after all.
I glanced up and down the hall and was pleased to see there was nothing but a single maid’s cart at the far end of the hallway. There wasn’t even a maid standing near it. Jefferson’s room was right off the elevator, far from the room where the cart was standing. He slid his key card in the slot and stepped through the door.
I was right behind him and followed him swiftly through the doorway. I stood just inside, listened for the click as the door closed behind me, and followed up with a bullet in the back of his head before he even had a chance to realize I was in the room with him.
The whole thing took about six seconds.
I loved silencers.
Grabbing the body quickly, I moved it around the corner of the bed to conceal it a little better before the blood started seeping into the carpet. I failed to be quick enough to avoid a mess, but it would be minimal. Kneeling down next to the body, my gloved hands went through his pockets and came up with his wallet. I pulled out a credit card and used the on-line app provided by the hotel to extend his stay an extra week.
That could buy me a little extra time or not, I didn’t really care. I hoped by the time he was discovered, I would be completely done with this whole assignment, but if he was found earlier, I didn’t think it would change much.
I stepped over by the door and looked into the room to see if I had hidden him well enough. Of course, anyone who peeked inside was going to see a decent amount of blood and brains on the floor, but it was slightly better than a body.
I put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door as I left.
Interstate 80 wasn’t