129

Stevens and Windermere left Mathers to watch Ramirez’s room at the Rio. Drove across to the Bellagio to check out the security footage.

“You believe that guy?” said Windermere as she pulled up to the valet stand. “Barely escapes with his life and still doesn’t want to help catch the killer.”

Stevens climbed out of the Buick. “From the look of it, I’d say he considers us a bigger threat than O’Brien.”

“Yeah, well.” Windermere shook her head. “The hell do I want with some gangbanger and his girlfriends? All I care about is taking down Killswitch.”

They walked into the casino. Crossed the gaming floor to the hotel and found the director of security waiting. Gates was his name. He was a big guy, officious. Studied Windermere’s badge hard, and then nodded and led them into the bowels of the building.

“What’s up with Mathers, anyway?” Stevens asked as they walked. “You wear him out back in Philly? The kid’s pretty damn quiet.”

Windermere struggled to keep her face neutral. Felt her stomach do an unpleasant flip. “Guess he’s tired,” she said. “Long days. Tough case.”

“Guess so,” said Stevens. “He’s usually so damn chipper.”

Windermere said nothing. Hurried to catch up to Gates and prayed Stevens would drop the subject. Mercifully, the security director chose that moment to stop before a heavy door. “Security center,” he said. “The Fed goes in. State cop, no way.”

Stevens frowned. “Seriously?”

Gates looked at him, impassive. Then Windermere stepped up. “He’s assisting a federal investigation,” she said. “Has the same rights as I do. We both go.”

Gates didn’t say anything.

“You want I should call my boss first?” Windermere asked him. “Or yours?”

Gates exhaled. Shook his head once and stepped aside. Windermere smiled at Stevens. “After you, partner.”

They walked into the Bellagio’s massive security center. Machines hummed in all corners. There were screens everywhere, all of them cycling between views of the casino. Windermere turned to Gates. “Show us the kid.”

HE WAS AS SCARY ON-SCREEN as he’d been in real life. Stevens watched O’Brien appear on the security footage, a sleepwalker amid the hotel lobby’s chaos. He stood there, unmoving, as people ebbed and flowed around him. Bystanders glanced at him and hurried away.

“Too grainy to see his eyes,” said Windermere. “But that’s him.”

“Sure is,” said Stevens. “The guy gives me the creeps.”

They watched as O’Brien seemed to jolt back to life. He looked up and then walked, steadily, out of the lobby and into the casino. The view on the screen changed. O’Brien walked down a long carpeted floor, past slot machines and roulette wheels. He didn’t slow down. He didn’t look around.

The screen changed again. A bank of elevators and a security guard. O’Brien walked on-screen. Showed the guard something. “A room key,” said Gates. “We don’t know how he got it.”

Stevens glanced at Windermere. “Killswitch gave it to him.”

“How’d Killswitch get it?”

Stevens shrugged. “Maybe the Defense Department hooked him up.”

Windermere looked at him. Laughed a little. Then turned back to the screen. O’Brien was climbing onto an elevator with a group of tourists. The doors slid closed.

The screen changed to the thirty-fifth floor. O’Brien walked off the elevator and down a long hall. Paused in front of a door and took a pistol from his waistband. Knocked a couple times and used the key card to get in. The screen didn’t change. Windermere looked at Gates. “Anything from the room?”

Gates shook his head. “Afraid not.”

The elevator doors slid open again. Julio Ramirez stepped into the hall, trailed by his two girlfriends. They walked down the corridor to the room, jostling and laughing. Unlocked the door and walked in. “And then nothing,” said Windermere. “Who the hell knows what happened.”

Gates leaned forward and pressed a button. The tape fast-forwarded a ways. Then O’Brien appeared again, down the hall. Gates slowed the tape.

“This is where we got the call,” he said. “Guest on the thirty-sixth floor caught a bullet in her couch. We sent security to investigate.” He looked at Stevens and Windermere. “We take guest safety very seriously here.”

Windermere looked at him. “I bet you do.”

On the tape, O’Brien walked fast to the elevator and jammed the call button. Looked back. Pressed the button again. Stevens leaned forward, squinted at the screen. Then the screen changed.

“That’s pretty much it,” said Gates. “He rode the elevator down, dodged our guys headed up. Sat at a slot machine for a minute and then walked out of the casino. Hijacked a taxi and rode off into the sunset.”

Windermere’s phone was ringing. She picked up. “Mathers,” she said. “What, right now? We’ll head back.” She hung up the phone. “Ramirez is leaving for the airport.”

Stevens nodded. Stood up from the monitors. Then he stopped and looked at Gates. “Can you scroll back some?” he said. “To the thirty-fifth floor again?”

Gates pressed a button and the screen changed again. Now O’Brien was standing in front of the elevator. “Pause it,” said Stevens. “Right there.” He leaned forward. “Yeah,” he said. “There.”

Windermere frowned at him. “What do you see?”

Stevens pointed at O’Brien. “His eyes,” he said. The footage was grainy, but there was something there. A look on the kid’s face where there was nothing before.

Windermere stared at the screen. “Holy shit, Stevens,” she said. “That kid’s terrified.”