Dean set up in a first-floor room while we paced nervously and reviewed every imaginable scenario.
What if Daddy B answered the door? What if another woman was there? What if no one answered? What if I peed my pants? (We took turns in the bathroom, just in case.)
Kenna and I had prepared a list of questions for Kat, a proposal for helping her out of the situation, and a list of self-help resources she could use. We divided the notes between us so neither of us would have strangely puffy pockets.
Dean had offered to go to Kat’s hotel room first, but I couldn’t let him risk it. If he was arrested or even questioned, it could jeopardize his career. Being a PI required a pretty clean record, and any new troubles had to be reported to the state quickly and honestly.
“Listen, we could talk through potential problems all night,” Kenna said. “It’s time to get moving. No one in that room is gonna look closely at our clothes through the peephole. Unfortunately for Kat, she’s probably going to open the door no matter what. She needs the money.”
I nodded and squeezed Kenna’s hand. I was having second thoughts about something, and I didn’t think she was going to like it.
“Don’t get mad,” I said.
“Why? What?”
“I think I should go by myself. We can’t risk Kat getting spooked by two guys at her door. You should watch the live feed and come by as soon as I’ve had a few minutes to talk with her.”
“Nicki. Really? Are you sure?”
“I’d rather you were there, but I think it’s better this way. It might be our only chance to talk to her. We can’t scare her off.”
I felt Dean’s eyes on us. I was more worried about what he thought than about Kenna’s reaction.
“Fine. You’re probably right,” she said. “But let’s download that app onto my phone. I’ll be in the stairwell so I can get there fast if you need me.”
Again, I wondered about Dean’s opinion. He’d probably rather be in the stairwell, if anyone was going to do it. I gave him a questioning look.
“It’s your call, Nicki,” he said.
I looked at the equipment he’d set up to help us, including his laptop and an extra monitor.
“You can wait in the stairwell,” I told Kenna. “And Dean, if I sense trouble, I’ll use a code word.” I thought for a minute. What could I naturally fit into the conversation without using it accidentally?
“The f word?” Kenna said. “You don’t say that a lot, and I don’t think it’ll offend anyone who’d give you trouble.”
I smiled. “No. I have to be able to work it in without sounding strange. Like if I just get a bad feeling, and I want some backup without tipping anyone off.”
“Hm. Okay. How about ‘pool’?” Kenna said. “You could bring up the hotel’s pool casually if you need to.”
“That’s good,” I said, knowing I needed to get going. “Are you okay with it, Dean?”
“It’s ‘pool’ with me,” he said, wincing at his play on words.
“Pool,” I said, with more confidence than I felt. “I’ll see you guys later.”
I knocked the way I guessed a john might. A little hesitant. Like, “I’m here, but I’m a little nervous, and I wonder if whoever opens this door will be who I’m expecting.” But also, “Open up. I really don’t want to be seen out here.”
I was not expecting what happened next. Or what happened after that.
Instead of Kat, another woman poked her head out. A large woman who, from under my cap, did not look like Kat.
“Lookin’ for Kat?” she said.
“Yeah,” I grunted.
“Come on in, honey.”
She opened the door wider.
I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to see Kat before I walked in.
“Where is she?” I asked.
“Waiting for you. Don’t be shy. Come on. I’m her friend, kinda like her screener, and you look okay, so I’m leaving.”
If I’d been a john, I might have been persuaded. But I wasn’t a john, and I wasn’t convinced.
I looked down the hall left and right, stalling and shifting my feet.
“I gotta see Kat,” I said. “Stop fucking with me.” Perhaps not the best choice of words, but hey, I was under pressure. Good thing I hadn’t picked that particular code word.
“Hey, Kat,” the woman called. “You got company.”
Someone called “okay” from the bathroom.
The woman looked me up and down. “S’cuse me. I’m gonna leave you two alone.”
She smirked, opened the door wider, and stepped past me. Suddenly, I felt a hard push from behind, and I was on the floor with an unwelcome close-up of carpet fibers. The door slammed, and a foot was on my back.
“Pool,” I choked toward my button, which was pressed against the floor and hopefully receptive. On the other hand, I didn’t want Kenna dashing in from the stairwell. There was no need to put two of us in danger. Unfortunately, Dean was several floors away.
“What?” the woman asked, flipping me over and revealing what was under her dress, which wasn’t feminine in any way, shape, or form. I was just glad a gun or knife wasn’t in sight. “Give me your fucking money.”
He ransacked me, yanking money from my front pocket and notes from everywhere else. I conserved my energy for defending myself and let him take the three hundred dollars I’d brought.
“Take it,” I said. “I won’t tell anyone. I swear. I don’t want my wife to know I’m here.” Thank goodness my men’s wig was attached to my hat, and all of it was attached to my hair (something I hoped I wouldn’t regret). Given his getup, however, maybe he wouldn’t care that I was disguised. Maybe he’d admire it.
“You don’t have a phone?” he complained, his voice now deep. “And where’s your wallet?”
“I didn’t bring it,” I said. “Sorry.”
He kicked me where he thought I had nuts, and I yelped and grabbed myself as if it hurt more than it did, which was still a lot. I figured if I sounded feminine at this point, he wouldn’t question it.
When I opened my eyes and kicked toward him instinctively, his back was to me, and a blond, who must have come from the bathroom, was opening the door. Maybe Kenna would be in the hallway outside, able to see if it was Kat.
I prayed they’d leave, but I called out “Kat!” in hopes she’d turn my way before going. She didn’t.
“We got you on video,” the guy said while adjusting his “hair” and stepping out the door. He pointed at me and shook my cash in his fist, narrowing his copper eyes. “If you don’t want it on the news, keep your mouth shut.”
They had me on video? If I hadn’t been so scared, I would have laughed. Apparently there were enough cameras in the room for a reality show. If we put our footage together, it could go viral. “The news” was thinking small. How about YouTube, buddy?
“Please, no,” I mumbled. “My wife’ll kill me.”
The door slammed, and I heard running. I wanted to chase them, but getting up took longer and hurt more than I expected, and I knew they were gone.
It was time to call for backup again, search for clues, and hit the ice machine. My “balls” were gonna be sore.
“Nicki! Are you okay?” Kenna said when she got to the room seconds later. I’d alerted her and Dean that I was fine—and that I didn’t want them to call the police yet, if they hadn’t already. I assumed they could hear me through the button, but I had no way of being sure. I needed time to search the room, not to mention collect our scattered notes.
“I’m fine. Really. Did you see them?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Kenna said, breathless. “They were almost to the exit at the other end of the hall, and they ignored me when I called out to them. I couldn’t tell if it was Kat. I’m sorry.”
“What did you say to them?”
; “Just ‘Excuse me!’” she said. “And then, ‘Fire!’ I thought that might turn them around. Maybe Dean saw where they went through my camera. Do you think he’s on his way? Or maybe he’s chasing them down.”
I hadn’t thought of that. What if he was trying to tackle them somewhere? This was bad. Really bad.
“Dean,” I said, aiming for the button. “Don’t be a hero. Just call security and get the hotel video. We need it before the police take it.” I looked at Kenna. “Could you see anything from my camera when I was on the floor? Like when the second person, the woman, came out of the bathroom?”
“Not much except the guy. You got a close-up of his junk.” She grimaced. “Did he get all your money?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, who cares? Thank God it didn’t cost you your life.”
She was right. But my adrenaline was pumping so hard that I cared about both. And more than anything, I wanted to know if Kat had been involved. If she had, where would that leave us, other than three hundred dollars poorer? Searching for a prostitute was one thing. Looking for a thief—who had my money (plus a little piece of my ass)—was another.
Dean arrived on the scene a minute later with security in tow. Unfortunately, the police were on the way.
“What happened here?” the security guard asked, looking back and forth between me and Kenna, unsure who was the victim.
I glanced at Dean, not knowing what he’d already revealed.
“We were working undercover,” Dean said. “And she was alone in the room with two targets, and one of them robbed her.”
The guard followed Dean’s gaze toward me, and her expression remained polite.
“Okay. Do any of you know the identity of the person or persons who robbed you?”
“No,” I said. I wasn’t about to give Kat’s name, and I hoped Dean hadn’t mentioned it. We didn’t know if she had anything to do with this. “Who was checked into this room?” I asked.
The guard radioed the front desk and was told the room was vacant. Then she rolled her eyes and holstered her walkie-talkie. “Apparently, someone used this room without paying for it.”
“How does that happen?” I asked, running through possibilities in my mind. “How do people get away with that?”
“Lots of options. One is a connection to someone who works here. But first let’s talk about you, and let’s step into the hallway so we don’t disturb any evidence. Are you injured?”
I offered details while continuing to press her for information. Eventually, she agreed to let Dean go to the security office and request video of the robbers’ escape. The hotel had cameras in hallways, stairwells, elevators, and at each exit, she said. I hoped that before long, we’d know if it had been Kat, and hopefully the police could figure everything else out. So far, none of us had mentioned our video, and I didn’t plan to share it. Not yet, at least. Technically, I wasn’t supposed to be recording in the hotel room, where someone would have an expectation of privacy, but I hadn’t entered the room voluntarily. I’d been pushed.
While the security guard walked down the hall to communicate with officials privately, I stepped into the bathroom, presumably to peek in the mirror, but really to see what else was in there. I also whispered to Kenna to look around the room for clues. “Make sure your camera is on,” I reminded her. “And don’t disturb anything.”
The bathroom was neat and orderly, almost untouched. The only notable thing (other than my scary reflection in the mirror) was water drops in the sink, as though someone had used it. Maybe there would be fingerprints on the faucet.
I unpinned the hat and wig from my hair and ran my fingers carefully through my bob, trying not to leave additional evidence. The poor technicians would probably find several brands of wig hair combined with human strands in the room. These days, with extensions all the rage, maybe they were used to that.
“You shouldn’t be in there,” the guard warned us when she returned. “Come out, please.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I just wanted to look in the mirror.”
Kenna scooted to my side. “You look fine,” she lied. “I mean, you don’t look injured or anything. I’m so glad you’re okay.” She hugged me, and I hugged her back. Thank goodness she hadn’t been involved or hurt. Maybe my instinct about not bringing her had been protective more than anything else.
I worried about what Andy would think. This work was more dangerous than any of us had expected, and he was going to be furious. At the same time, he’d never been able to talk Kenna out of anything, and neither had I. No matter what either of us said, Kenna wouldn’t give up.
I don’t want to give up either, I thought. I wasn’t sure if that made me a bad mom. Or a badass.
Fourteen
I hadn’t seen our video, but Dean said the hotel footage was all the police needed.
“It should be plenty for them to work with,” he said. “The bonus is that you’re not in it much.”
That was true. As the robber had said, I didn’t want to be on the nightly news, not that anyone would recognize me.
“And it’s not Kat,” he added. “Unless she gained weight or had major plastic surgery.”
“Now that you say it, that woman did look more well-endowed,” Kenna confirmed. “Not like the tattooed girl.”
I didn’t know whether to be disappointed, relieved, or confused. All three were appropriate, I decided. All three, plus angry—yet desperate to understand and find Kat. Why had her photo been involved in something like this? Where had she been when I’d been robbed? My heart hurt thinking about it.
After being forthcoming with the police about everything except our case details, I wanted to get home and clean up. I felt most violated by being pushed, stepped on, and kicked—but not by being robbed, maybe because I was missing cash instead of anything personal, like my phone, keys, or purse. I was thankful the police had been protective of my identity. If the hotel video, or at least screenshots from it, hit the news, my face would be hidden.
Dean had recorded the hotel’s security video with his phone, and he hoped the staff would agree to share it with us officially soon.
When we reached Kenna’s house to drop her off, I asked whether she was going to wake Andy or tell him in the morning.
“Neither. I’m telling him after work tomorrow,” she said. “He has a big day, and I’m not going to ruin it.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. I wanted to postpone that confrontation as long as possible. Also, my kids were at her house, so the timing would be bad.
Dean and I waved goodbye and watched her go inside. I hoped Andy was long asleep and would barely notice as she slipped into bed.
Speaking of bed, it was time for Dean and me to say our normal reluctant farewell.
I parked my van, which we’d taken to the hotel, and looked over at him.
“What a night,” I said.
“I know. I was so worried about you. I thought I might have a heart attack running up the stairs.”
“You didn’t take the elevator?”
“No. I kind of panicked. I must have thought I could fly or something. I couldn’t get there fast enough.”
I’d been so busy feeling guilty about putting myself in danger that I hadn’t realized how Dean might feel.
“None of this is your fault,” I said. “Everything I did was on me. Like you said, it was my call.”
“I should have protected you better. I should have been there. I should have been the one knocking on the door, for God’s sake.”
“I wouldn’t have let you. You know I’m right.”
We both smiled a little.
“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said. “Ever.”
“I don’t want anything to happen to you either.” I leaned in for a kiss.
“Want me to come in?” Dean whispered.
> The kids weren’t home, but the evening had made me feel vulnerable, exhausted, and even more worried about Kat. I wanted to take a shower and crawl into bed.
“I do, but I’m so tired.”
“How about if I stay the night, but we just sleep. Okay? It’s not a night for big decisions.”
“Okay,” I said. “Honestly, I don’t want to be alone. I mean, I’ll be fine, but—”
He kissed me again. “I’m here for you, Nicki. Always.”
The six a.m. news had black-and-white video of the man and woman running down the hall, each swinging a purse, one surely containing my money.
A Loudoun County private investigator says she was working undercover at the Brighton last night when she was robbed by a man dressed as a woman. Video from the hotel shows the alleged robber escaping with a woman and an undisclosed sum of money. If you recognize anyone in this video, police urge you to call 703-555-4576.
The video froze, and I could see Kenna in the background—blurry and dressed as a man, with pixilation added to hide her face.
“We’ve got a lot to do today,” Dean said when the newscast was over. “Are you up for it?”
“I think so. Breakfast will help.”
“Stay there,” Dean said, pointing at me in bed. “What can I get you?”
“Tofu scramble?” I teased. “Just kidding. How about oatmeal with soy milk and dates.” That was almost as annoying. “It’s all in the fridge, except the oatmeal’s in the pantry, and it’s instant.”
“I can handle that,” he said.
Five minutes later, he arrived with a large bowl of oatmeal sprinkled with chopped dates.
“I made extra for the kids in case they eat here,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said. “That was sweet.”
“Do you want sugar or anything?”
“I use maple syrup,” I said, scrunching my nose at my pickiness. It was real maple syrup too. “I forgot to tell you. I can get it though.”
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