by J. J. Stone
John lowered himself to the hotel floor and laid out the photos like he was setting up a card game. Placing the photos in neat rows, he took a moment to admire each one before he set it down. This was why he had sent Jane away. This was why he had to keep going. To hold onto the feeling of completion these photos and the memories behind them brought.
He got to the last photo, the first girl, and stroked a finger across it reverently before placing it on the floor with the others. That first time had been … intoxicating. He hadn’t even meant to kill Cheryl. He’d gone over there to tell her to keep her curtains shut. Next thing he knew, she was offering him a joint and leading him to her bedroom. He followed her, intent on getting his point across. She’d made some comment about Jane picking the flowers off her pathetic rose bushes, and John felt something just snap. His hands were around her neck, and he was pressing her body into the saggy mattress with all of his weight. When the light left her eyes and she stared up at him with a gaping mouth, he couldn’t believe how calm he felt. How clearly the answer to his anger and frustration of the past year presented itself. The man from the coffee shop had been right.
For a moment, John sat on the floor of his hotel room and stared in awe at his artwork and allowed his eyes to roam hungrily over each image. This was his pride and joy, what he looked forward to every morning he woke, what he was on this earth to do. Cleanse the world of its army of poisonous whores.
The phone buzzed again in his pocket. John answered the call as he picked up another picture.
“Yes?” he muttered as he crossed his legs under him.
“You’ve been found,” came an emotionless voice from the other end.
John’s entire body went cold. “Wait, what? That’s impossible—”
“You need to vacate before you’re located. If you don’t have time, you must fall on the sword.”
“How long do I have?” John pleaded but the call ended.
Mind racing, John quickly shoved the photos into a sloppy pile and stumbled to his feet. He yanked open the dresser drawer and scooped its contents into his arms. He dropped everything onto the bed and dropped to the floor to retrieve the duffle bag underneath it.
As he frantically packed, he glanced out the shaded windows. The parking lot seemed just as dead as it was the last time he checked it. He hoped it would stay that way long enough for him to make it to his truck and get the hell out of town.
_____
“We got him,” Dade said as he climbed into the passenger seat and yanked his seatbelt on.
“You spoke with Betty?” Ada asked.
Dade nodded. “He visited his mom a few weeks ago, out of nowhere. A week later, she was going through her things and noticed that one of her credit cards was missing.”
“Why didn’t she say anything to anyone?” James asked as he started the car and pulled away from Cheryl Adams’ house.
“She figured her son was in trouble. Didn’t want to make things worse for him.”
Ada took a deep breath and turned to look out the window. “So, we’re going to speak with him?”
“If everyone’s up for a trip to Kirkland,” Dade replied as he tapped an address into his phone.
“What’s his name?” James asked as he turned down toward the highway.
Dade connected his phone to the car’s sound system and a female voice began calmly giving directions. “John Klinton.”
CHAPTER 14
John burst back into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. He had moved his truck to right outside the door. All he had to do was grab his things and move on to the next hotel. How he had been found, he had no clue. Now was not the time to worry about that.
He strode to the bed and slung his bag onto his shoulder. Opening the bedside table drawer, John removed a small knife and tiny paper packet. He carefully placed both into his front pants pocket.
Outside, a car crunched its way into the parking lot. John froze, every muscle clenched. The car stopped and shut off a few yards from his door. There was silence for a few tense seconds. Then two car doors opened and closed within a few beats of each other.
John glanced uselessly around the room for an escape. The door was his only way out. For now, all he could do was wait to see who was in the parking lot, and if they were there for him.
_____
“I’ll go to the front desk and see if I can get anywhere with the owner,” James said as he pulled off his sunglasses and squinted up at the sun stubbornly trying to pierce the eternal gray haze of clouds.
Dade nodded and pointed at the unoccupied and running truck a few parking spots down from them. “I’m gonna see who this belongs to.”
As James walked away from the car, Brenda opened her door and swung her feet to the running board. “Need some help?” she called to Dade.
He glanced back at her and shook his head. “You ladies stay in the car, let the men poke around for a minute.”
Brenda rolled her eyes and retreated back into the car.
_____
Someone knocked on the door, and John fully expected his heart to burst out of his chest and land on the ugly hotel carpet. He didn’t move as he waited to see if the stranger knocking on the door would just move on.
It was a full five eternal seconds before a second pattern of knocks sounded, more firm this time. “Anyone home? There’s a car running out here, just wanted to make sure everything’s OK,” came a male voice from the other side of the door.
John could hear law enforcement in the man’s voice. He debated answering that the car wasn’t his, but realized a normal person would answer the door to tell someone that. And he was not about to put himself in front of a cop.
He heard the man shuffle outside his door for a moment, as if debating whether to move on to the next room. John slipped his hand into his pocket and touched the knife.
Solid steps sounded as the man walked away from the door. John let out a gush of breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He clamped his hands over his face and willed his heart and nerves to calm.
Once he had calmed, John let his hands drop. He bent down to pick up the bag from where his shaking hands had released it. As he straightened and slung the bag back onto his shoulder, his eyes met the man’s through the room window.
_____
Dade locked eyes with the room’s occupant and instantly knew the face staring back at him. His hand twitched reflexively for his gun, but he resisted pulling it. The last thing he needed was to spook John.
“Everything OK in there?” Dade called to John, watching as the scrawny man remained frozen in the middle of the room.
John nodded but stayed still.
From the idling truck and the bag on John’s shoulder, it was obvious he was about to leave. Dade was prepared to prevent that, but not without backup. “All right, just wanted to make sure,” Dade said as cordially as he could muster. He gave John a single wave and stepped away from the window.
As he headed back to the SUV, Brenda opened the door again, a quip poised on her lips. Dade motioned for her to get back in the car, and she did so without hesitation, noting the tense look on his face.
Dade opened the passenger door and slid in. “He’s in room eight,” he said as he dialed James.
“You’re sure?” Brenda asked, watching John’s door.
Dade nodded as James answered his phone. “James, he’s in room eight. I just got a visual on him. He looks like he’s getting ready to bail.”
Ada craned her neck for a better view around Brenda. “So are you going to pick him up?”
Dade ended his call with James and pressed the top of his phone to his cheek as he locked a steely gaze on Room 8. “We don’t have a warrant and no reason to talk to him, honestly.”
“What about the credit card?” Brenda offered.<
br />
Dade shrugged. “His mom never reported it, so we shouldn’t even know he has it.”
James returned from the front desk and opened the driver door. “Room eight?”
Dade nodded and moved to exit the car.
James held up a staying hand. “I got the clerk to print me a room bill. I’m going to tell him his card was declined.”
Without another word, James shut the door again and strode over to the room door. Brenda leaned toward Dade and socked him in the shoulder. “Told you the credit card would work.”
_____
James rapped on the door and cleared his throat. “Mr. Klinton? I’m from the front desk, we have a question about your payment method for the room.” His ears strained for movement in the room, but heard nothing.
Carefully, James motioned behind his back for Dade to leave. He listened as the car started moments later and drove slowly away from the front of the hotel.
Like clockwork, the door’s lock turned as soon as the SUV was out of sight. James planted a tight, cordial expression on his face as he prepared for the door to open.
When John cracked the door, James noted his haggard appearance and frayed nerves. This man had done more than steal his mother’s credit card.
“Is there a problem?” John’s voice was gravelly. He studied James.
“I’m afraid so, Mr. Klinton. We received your checkout notice and tried to run the card you provided. Unfortunately, it was declined.” James switched his expression to one of concern and lowered his voice. “Do you have another card you’d like us to use?”
John cursed under his breath and looked down at his feet. “No, I don’t.”
“Well, we need to receive payment for the room before you leave, sir,” James replied in a slightly irked tone.
John’s frown remained in place. “I’ll see what I can figure out.”
“Perhaps you could call your wife and see if she knows why the card’s been declined. This might all be a simple misunderstanding with your credit card provider.”
“My wife?” John huffed. “I’m not married.”
James now employed a conspicuously confused full-face frown. “The name on the card is Betty Klinton. We assumed that was your wife …”
“No, that’s my mother’s name. She gave me the card. Well, we share it, I mean.” John’s voice quivered slightly.
James straightened and pressed his fingertips together. “Mr. Klinton, I’m afraid we’ll need to speak with your mother. To verify that you’re authorized to use this card. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to bring up this matter with the authorities.”
John slapped his hand against the back of the door and hissed, “My mother is in the hospital. She doesn’t need some hotel employee bothering her about a card.”
James took a step back and held up his hands. “Like I said, Mr. Klinton, we just need payment before you check out. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”
As James turned away and walked toward the hotel office, he smoothly slipped his phone from his pocket and texted Dade. He heard John’s door slam shut but the lock didn’t slide into place. John was about to make a break for it.
_____
John leaned back against the door of the hotel room and balled his fists. First the nosy cop, now the hotel staff. Neither had seemed like the threat that had been called in to him, which left John wondering what was coming next. “I’m not sticking around to find out,” he muttered, pushing himself off the door.
He scooped up his belongings and cautiously peered out the hotel window. The hotel clerk had already made it back to the front office, and the black SUV had not returned. The parking lot was a ghost town, save for his truck.
John cast one more glance around the room, running through his mental checklist of items. The last thing he needed was to get sloppy now. He only had three more stops on his list. Three more stops and then he’d go home.
His hand enveloped the doorknob just as the roar of a pack of police cars ignited the empty parking lot.
_____
“This guy is a person of interest?” asked the deputy as he sidled up to James.
James finished strapping on his bulletproof vest and nodded. “The most promising lead we’ve had this whole case.” He motioned to the handful of officers barricaded behind their patrol cars. “Your officers can move in.”
The deputy gave James a sizing glare and swept his hand toward the hotel room. In a tight huddle, four officers scuttled up to the room’s door, weapons drawn. A female officer stepped forward and pounded her fist on the door. “John Klinton, this is Seattle PD. I need you to open the door.”
James glanced over his shoulder at Dade and tilted his head toward the group. Dade grinned and jogged over to assist the officers.
Dade drew his gun as he crept up behind the female officer and tapped her shoulder. She stepped aside and Dade assumed her position. “John, you have five seconds, and then we’re coming in,” he shouted as he leaned an ear against the door.
James heard footsteps behind him. Brenda appeared beside him, hand poised over her holster. “Miss Brandt staying in the car?” James asked.
Brenda nodded, her focus on Dade and the officers. “I think that’s best,” Brenda murmured.
Dade turned back to look at James for the signal to enter. James took in a deep breath then gave Dade a single nod. He watched as Dade walked one giant pace back from the group then planted a solid kick on the door of Room 8.
_____
Dade burst into the room, the officers directly behind him. The first thing Dade saw was John Klinton falling to the floor like he’d been shot. The second thing Dade saw was a steady stream of white foam pouring from John’s gaping mouth.
“Dammit!” Dade shouted as he holstered his gun and dropped to his knees beside John’s seizing body. Dade struggled to tip the man onto his side. “Get the medics in here!” he barked to the frozen group of uniforms at the doorway.
A few moments later, the medical team took over the room and Dade found himself backed against the window. James and Brenda appeared in the doorway, and Dade could feel the anger emanating from James. “He was collapsing right when we got in the room,” Dade sighed, watching the medics work furiously to revive John. He knew their efforts would be futile.
No one said a word until the medics admitted defeat and pulled away from John’s lifeless body. “He’s gone,” a medic said as he began removing equipment from John’s body.
While the medics prepared to move John’s body from the room, the CSI unit arrived to process the scene. Everyone snapped into work mode, only muttering small sentences to each other when necessary. Dade, Brenda, and James entered behind the CSI team, noting certain items throughout the room.
John’s duffel bag lay near the foot of the bed. James picked it up and placed it on the bed. He carefully pulled it open and meticulously pulled out items. A CSI officer stood beside him and bagged items as James handed them over.
“Need any help?”
James, Brenda, and Dade turned in unison and gave Ada matching surprised looks. Ada remained planted in the doorway of the room, her hands buried deep in her pockets. Her face was slightly ashen and her eyes wide as she took in the activity in the room.
“I can call someone to bring you back—” Brenda said, but Ada held a hand up to silence her.
“I saw them … taking John out of the room, so I figured I should come see what I could do,” Ada said, her wide-eyed gaze coming to rest on James.
James regarded her for a moment then pulled an extra pair of gloves from his back pocket and held them out to her. “I have something you could take a look at,” he told her.
Ada stepped carefully into the room and took the gloves from James. On the bed, James had neatly arranged the contents of John’s bag while the CSI officer catalog
ed everything. James picked up a well-worn brown notebook and handed it to Ada. “See if there’s anything in there worth noting.”
Ada silently took the notebook from him and retreated to a quiet corner of the room to leaf carefully through the book. It was filled with chicken scratch in ironically neat little rows. Ada glanced up from the notebook and caught Dade’s attention. He crossed the room to her, a weary look on his face.
“What happened? I thought the plan was to bring him in for questioning?” Ada asked.
Dade grimaced. “Yeah, well, he changed the plan on us.” He glanced at a matted section of shag carpet near the door. “He was already seizing when we got through the door. There really wasn’t anything we could do.”
“How do we know if he’s the killer?”
Dade gave her a sideways look. “If you were innocent, would you kill yourself instead of opening a door?”
Ada felt her cheeks warm. “It just would have been nice to get a confession from him.”
“I have the next best thing,” James interjected. He pulled out a stack of photographs that had been rubber banded together out of the bag. He waited for the CSI officer to photograph the stack before he undid the rubber band and flipped through the photos.
Brenda, Dade, and Ada gathered around him. Each photo featured a woman posed as if she had been photographed while sleeping. The bruises around each woman’s neck and the sickly white pallor of their skin were the only clues that each of the photos were the women’s last.