Martin looked up, his gaze settling on Bowman. “I need you both to sign my log so I know who was at my crime scene. Don’t want it turning into a circus.”
Bowman picked up the clipboard holding the sheet and signed his name and phone number. His bold handwriting bored into the paper. He handed the pen and paper to Riley, who quickly signed her name under his.
A scan of the room didn’t reveal much at first glance. The bed was made, the curtains drawn. In the bathroom, the toothbrush, toothpaste, and other toiletries were lined up in a neat row.
“I noticed a “Do Not Disturb” tag on the door,” Riley said.
Sharp straightened. “He didn’t want the maid in his room. He wasn’t scheduled to check out for another three days, so the staff left the room alone.”
“Can’t blame the guy for no maid,” Bowman said. “I traveled a great deal and always declined the cleaning service. Never liked strangers in my space.”
Riley’s budget had never allowed for much travel. All her extra money went first to her college education, then the house, and now Hanna. “I guess you’ve seen about all the world there is to see.”
“Basically. What about you?”
“I’ve seen New Orleans and Virginia.”
“You’re still young.”
But Riley’s budget would be tight until Hanna graduated college. “That’s true.”
“He didn’t spend much time here,” Bowman said, looking in the closet where a dark suit and three dress shirts hung. On the floor by the bed sat a pair of shiny Italian loafers.
“Those shoes set him back a grand and the suits twice that,” she said.
“How do you know?” Agent Sharp asked.
She touched the soft fabric and glanced at the label. Armani. “Take my word. When we found him, he was wearing gold cuff links, a gold chain around his neck, and a diamond pinky ring.”
“Guy rolls large,” Sharp said.
“Part of the image,” Bowman added.
She moved toward the windows and opened the curtains. It was a view of the parking lot. Not exciting.
“We found a rental car receipt in his pocket,” Sharp said. “I called the company, and they’re going to track its location via GPS. When they find the car, they’ll contact me.” His phone rang, and frowning, he said, “I have to take this. Be right back.”
Riley moved to the desk, where she spotted a hotel writing pad. The imprint of letters caught in the light prompted her to grab a pencil and shadow the page. The words Round Six appeared. Round Six. The DVD sent to her had said Round Five.
With her phone she snapped a picture of the pad and asked Martin to bag it in a plastic evidence bag. She moved to the nightstand, opened the drawer, and found a Bible. She lifted the Bible and thumbed through the pages, knowing if she were a gambler, this would be the spot where she’d hide something. Finding nothing, she moved to a black leather bag. In one side pocket she found a few zip-top plastic bags, and in another a few rumpled tissues. If this guy had anything of value, he was wearing it when he died.
“Lewis has a record,” Bowman said. “No surprise there. Embezzlement and a couple of domestic abuse charges.”
“How do you know this?” Riley asked.
“Our computer guy at Shield.”
“Of course,” Riley said. “Who filed the abuse complaints?”
“His ex-girlfriend. In her statement she claimed he tried to kill her. But when it came down to it, she wouldn’t actually file the charges.”
“Where was this?” Riley asked.
“Las Vegas. The ex-girlfriend worked as a dealer in one of the big casinos. That was three years ago, and since then he got married and his record has been clean.”
“Or he’s smarter,” Riley said.
Bowman nodded. “Once you get a warrant and have a look at his financials, you’ll find he had a lot of debt.”
“Computer guy whisper that fact in your ear?” she asked.
Bowman shrugged. “You’ll find out when you see the records.”
Riley knew she’d be back in uniform tomorrow and her active time in this investigation would be limited. Pushing aside regret, she looked under the bed and behind the curtains. Finding nothing, she moved to the bathroom. Her first stop was the toilet, where she lifted the tank lid. Taped to the underside of the lid was a zip-top bag crammed with cash. “Who says those stings with vice never taught me anything.”
“You worked vice?”
“In a miniskirt, halter top, and thigh-high boots. I stood on the street corner in April and lured johns to a hotel room. Loved the look on their faces when the deputies came busting out of the bathroom.”
Bowman stared at her as if trying to picture the image. Interest sparked.
She arched a brow. “I can promise you, it wasn’t that exciting.”
“You underestimate yourself.”
She called out to Martin and as he took photographs, she opened the bag and carefully spread the contents out on the bathroom counter. “The top few bills are hundreds, but after that, it’s a few twenties and lots of ones. Looks good on the surface.”
She pulled out a small black velvet bag and worked her finger into the drawstring. She removed a large gold coin. “What the hell?”
Bowman leaned closer. “It’s not currency.”
“No. Not currency.” But the coin was perfectly formed. One side was smooth, and on the other was an embossed number six. “Six. Round Six?” She showed him the picture she’d just snapped of the notepad.
Martin glanced in his viewfinder. “I need another memory card. Don’t touch anything.”
“May I?” Bowman said, reaching for her phone.
She handed it to him.
“I’m texting it to my IT guy.”
“Sure.”
He typed a few quick numbers and as the image whooshed away, he handed her the phone back. “You were round five. The first games were in New Orleans and the sixth and seventh games were here.”
Four previous victims. Her. Vicky. And possibly Cassie. “Do you think he only kills after winning a poker game?”
“I don’t know. A man like him gets a taste for killing. He could very well have other scenarios that give him permission to kill.”
There were so many runaways. Dozens could go missing and no one might notice. She dug into the dazed memories surrounding her missing days, searching for references to the number five. But she couldn’t remember anything.
“Maybe forensics can pull a print.”
“If they do, it will likely be Lewis’s.”
Bowman scanned the perfectly scrubbed bathroom and looked at the room again. “My guess is you’ll only find traces of Lewis in the room. Lewis might not have been careful, but whoever is sponsoring this game covers his tracks.”
Sharp returned, whistling when he saw the spread of cash. “Where would you hold a game like that?”
“Somewhere nice,” Riley said, almost to herself. “A big private home. Jo-Jo said Vicky was going somewhere twenty or so miles west.”
“We’ve plenty of houses like that in western Virginia,” Sharp said. His cell buzzed again and a glance at the display had him rolling his eyes. “I can’t complete a thought without getting interrupted.”
When he was gone, Bowman spoke in a low voice. “The Shark’s here because of you and Shield.”
“Why Shield?”
“In New Orleans he sent Shield pictures of you and the girls he killed. You are the prize. Shield is the challenger.”
“Is this all because he lost a damn hand of cards?”
“He loves a challenge and winning. Control is clearly a number-one priority for him. He lost you once, so now he’s going for you again, and he wants to make sure Shield knows it.”
“Damn.”
“This time, he’s also playing against Shield’s brain and mine. It’s beyond card games now.”
“In New Orleans, did the forensic evidence suggest multiple killers?”
“We
found the same DNA on each victim, which suggests one man did all the killing,” Bowman said.
“So why does he want to share now? Why have Lewis kill Vicky?” Riley asked.
“I don’t know.”
“The Shark covers his tracks so damn well. I’m beginning to think there’re no trails to this psychopath.”
“There is one trail. You.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Tuesday, September 20, 8:00 a.m.