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Beth reached the moving sidewalk to Excalibur twenty seconds before Mimic. Her whole frame trembled and she had to concentrate on staying upright. Would there be two bodies lying in the lobby if she’d been foolish enough to try and warn Ramiro? She turned right into the hotel. More “All You Can Eat” buffet signs and gift liquor stores. It felt like she was trapped in a maze of the same place.
She eventually made it out onto the bustling, hot Strip. The sky was clear blue and the desert breeze warm like a hair-dryer. She sidestepped Elvis and the Disney and Pixar characters selling their poses for a gaggle of Japanese tourists. An enterprising man in a wheelchair dressed like Tom Cruise from Born on the Fourth of July was doing equally good business.
Beth wandered into the first Internet café she found and waited, anaesthetised, for a terminal to become available, finally seating herself on a dank hot leather chair vacated by a huge man in sweaty black lycra.
There was no question of where Beth was going next. They were already over two hundred and fifty miles nearer to West Glacier Village. It would be much less than a day’s drive now.
Against agency policy to release details of guests was the response from OutwardlyBoundVacations.com.
Sorry. Nobody of that name staying in our lodge. Will ask around, Scott and Margaret Gellar apologised.
They were the only responses she’d had to her email. Maybe the O’Dooles weren’t staying in rented accommodation. Perhaps it was a private cabin. So it didn’t matter if every company she’d emailed did get back to her – which was unlikely.
Whatever remained of her logical self told her to call Cabrini. But she’d already fled the protection of the LAPD. What about law enforcement in West Glacier? She’d already been warned about who was really in danger if she involved the police.
The gunman was relying on her needing the answers he said he had, and seemed happy to string her along in the meantime. But Beth knew it was only because he wanted to keep her close until it was her turn.
Why?
She left it on Eileen Froley and Allegro’s walls. Beth guessed he’d get the alert and respond. She sat back, the line of people waiting glaring at her while she remained idle in front of the monitor. A couple of minutes passed. Perhaps he was packing or heading to the airport. It had sounded as if he’d driven to Vegas, though.
Beth checked the YouTube clips. Dustboy’s had been removed. That only left the one Tyler O’Doole had uploaded.
Physically looking for the family was her only remaining option. Would the gunman leave immediately or try to locate her in Vegas before he left? That was if he was actually heading to Montana. Beth guessed if she’d found them online so easily, though, he’d know exactly where they were as well.
She looked up flight details from Vegas to Glacier Park International. Allegiance Airlines operated limited flights out of Vegas to Kalispell. There was one flight that day, but it didn’t leave until five. There was another at 6.15 to Bozeman, but then she would have a four-hour drive to West Glacier Village.
Looks like dustboy has bitten it.
Beth shuddered inwardly as she straightened in the clammy chair and typed a response to his in the dialogue box.
Why did Ramiro kill himself?
You guessed he wasn’t Allegro? Ramiro was a good Catholic boy. I left the gun for him in the bathroom and told him to do it publicly; otherwise I’d send the webcam jerk-off performances he thought he was swapping with a Thai girl direct to his family members. Tragically, this is happening to so many young folks nowadays.
Repulsion swelled and Beth was just as sickened by the gunman’s flippancy as the suicide she’d just witnessed. Why are you killing the people who witnessed the accident and deleting their clips? If she revealed she knew who Ramiro was, there was little point withholding the question.
I knew you were a sharp girl, Beth. Ramiro made it easy. He works long hours at the hospital and I was able to remove his recording using his home laptop. Found the password that he uses for all of his accounts. We didn’t need to meet but I like to oversee things.
Her fingers trembled on the keys. Stop this.
Say pretty please.
Beth looked at her watch. It was 3.32. She knew he had to be leaving for West Glacier. She anticipated him logging out, and rapidly typed. Are you protecting Allegro?
How about dinner at Tony Roma’s? We can talk it out over surf and turf and go see a show afterwards. The Elvis Cirque Du Soleil is a hot ticket. My treat.
His invitation froze her blood cells. Another decoy? If I refuse?
Just don’t stand me up again. See you around seven.
Beth pushed her way out of the café and hailed a cab. If the gunman had driven to Vegas and left immediately, she could still overtake him on a flight, even if it didn’t leave for another couple of hours.
But he had to know she would try to find the O’Dooles. They were the last clip that had to be erased.
