They went from there to a bar fight, which resulted in an arrest that took far longer than it should have, as they had to wait for an interpreter.
They shooed a couple of hookers out of a hotel lobby where two thousand people were gathered for a pharmaceutical convention.
All in all, not a bad night. Until she was standing in front of her locker, freshly off shift, getting ready to change back into her jeans and head home. She’d left Chantel Johnson’s cell phone in her locker. And had reached for it first thing.
She’d missed three calls. All from Colin Fairbanks.
He’d left three messages. The first one concerned. The second one worried. And the third one...final. Unless she got back to him. He didn’t know what game she was playing, but since she wasn’t returning his calls and he now knew she wasn’t staying at the hotel she’d said she was at, the hotel he’d dropped her at on three different occasions, he was not going to call again. Before he hung up, he wished her well.
Chantel changed in thirty seconds flat, hurried out to her car and called Wayne.
Half an hour later, she was dialing Colin Fairbanks. He picked up on the third ring.
“Hello?” He’d clearly been asleep. Perhaps she should have waited. But...
“Colin, it’s Chantel. I’m sorry to be calling so late, but I just got your messages and I feel awful. I know you’ve got meetings in the morning, but I couldn’t leave things. You said you were done, and I don’t want that. And...”
“Chantel?” His voice grew in stature and she knew she had his full attention. Pictured him sitting up in bed.
Then she closed her eyes as a vision of him sleeping naked sprang to mind. She’d yet to leave the precinct parking lot.
“Yes. Listen, I won’t keep you. I just wanted you to know I’ve been out doing research today. My heroine runs a whale-watching business, and I’d been invited by a local company to shadow their resident expert oceanographer.”
She named the company Wayne had told her to name: a small, two-boat, six-employee venture. His sister, Ann, owned it. Chantel was going to be spending two hours with her early the next morning.
“You were out on a whale boat?”
“Yes. And then spent the evening over a lovely fresh crab dinner, asking Ann, my heroine’s counterpart, questions and talking about her life. I thoroughly enjoyed myself and had no idea how late it had gotten.”
That explained her absence. Her lack of phone contact.
Now for the rest of it.
“I’m at the Landau Resort.” A room had just been arranged, courtesy of the resort management, and would most likely be comped, as it was for official police business—details to be ironed out in the morning. Her budget wouldn’t cover one night at the place. But Wayne knew the night manager. The guy owed him a favor. “I’d asked that the information not be given out,” she said now, knowing she had to pull this off. “Not under any circumstances,” she added. “A request from my father, and because it wasn’t unreasonable or a huge inconvenience, I granted his request. You never know, in our position, who might try to find you and with my family being so far away...”
“You’re at the Landau right now?”
Oh, hell. The way her luck was going with him, he’d be in the lobby bar, not home in bed like she was imagining.
A bar would be much better for her equilibrium than home in bed.
And she could always say she’d showered after her day on the ocean and wasn’t up to seeing anyone that night. “Yes, I’m here now. Room 12334.”
“So I can call the resort, ask for your room number and you’ll answer.”
Shit.
“You don’t trust me, Colin?” She put the same amount of disdain in her tone as she’d heard a woman do in a documentary she’d watched. “I just gave you my room number. Pick me up here tomorrow at noon. We can have lunch at the Beach Café. It’s down by the water and really quite nice.”
She’d taken a tour of the resort before going undercover. When Wayne had named his contact and suggested that they use the hotel as her cover’s residence—as the place she’d use as Johnson’s drop-off and pickup location.
“I know the place,” he said. “And you’re right. It’s quite lovely. Tomorrow at noon?”
“If that works for you. Or any other time that’s better. If you want to, that is. If not, that’s fine, too. I just...” She’d pack some of her Chantel Johnson stuff in the morning. Arrange it around the room as Wayne had instructed.
“No. Noon’s fine. I’ll see you then.” Warmth had returned to his tone.