Free Switch by Grant McKenzie Page B

the way a house cat might just to see if it was worth opening the other.
    ‘You sleep?’ he asked.
    Sam shrugged. ‘A bit.’
    ‘Sleep helps you deal, Sam, and either you deal or you lie down and die. Personally, I don’t mind the dying.’ Zack’s face grew dark. ‘But you don’t have that option, and I don’t want that asshole walking around on the planet when I’m gone.’
    Sam swung his legs off the side of the bed and reached for his clothes. He understood that, unlike Zack, he at least had been given a little hope, but it didn’t make him feel any less afraid.
    As he dressed, he looked through the gap in the curtains to see Zack’s Mercedes parked in the asphalt lot one floor below. Its polished metallic surface reflected the early-evening light.
    ‘You sure the money’s OK in the car?’ Sam asked.
    Zack nodded as he slipped into his own clothes. The silk suit had lost some of its wrinkles from hanging in the shower stall while he slept, but the humidity had done nothing for the blood, dirt and grass stains.
    ‘Mercedes build their cars like tanks,’ he explained. ‘I also paid a little extra for the Diplomat package, which adds fireproofing and a secondary deadbolt on the trunk. You would need some real special tools to get that money, and even then you wouldn’t waste your time unless you knew it was there.’
    ‘Mmmm, OK, it’s just . . .’ Sam searched for the word, ‘unsettling, I guess.’
    ‘You want the keys?’ Zack asked.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Would you feel better if you had the keys, instead of me?’
    Sam shook off the suggestion. ‘Nah. Forget it. I’m so jittery I’d probably lose the damn things.’
    ‘Any time you change your mind . . .’
    Sam nodded to show he appreciated the offer. ‘So what now?’
    As if in answer, the cellphone rang.

27
    ‘You know,’ Detective Preston said, ‘it’s not that I don’t appreciate spending extra time with you, but my stomach is telling me to go home, get something to eat, curl up with the wife and watch a little
Jeopardy
. Maybe even crack a cold Texas beer.’
    Hogan ignored him and continued to search the abandoned room.
    The motel clerk stood at the open door to Room 4, his hands on hips and a frown creasing his face.
    ‘He not check out,’ he said for the fourth time in under a minute. ‘I see who come, I see who go. He not go.’
    ‘Snuck out.’ Preston jabbed his thumb in the direction of the small washroom at the rear. ‘Open window.’
    ‘He not to do that,’ said the clerk. ‘Window not to be opened. We run very clean place here. Very nice. No pornographers.’
    ‘Pity,’ Preston quipped. ‘Those are always fun doors to kick down.’
    Hogan sighed and scratched his chin. ‘You think White planned this?’
    ‘Misdirection?’ Preston shrugged. ‘He didn’t strike me as being that clever, but . . .’
    ‘If the explosion was a cover-up . . .’ Hogan voiced aloud.
    ‘Of the black girl’s murder . . .’ Preston continued.
    ‘Then he could be on the run,’ Hogan finished.
    ‘Which makes us look like dopes for letting him walk,’ Preston added.
    Hogan turned to the clerk. ‘How was he acting when he checked in?’
    The clerk’s eyes grew large. ‘He very tired and yawning. Did not strike me as scumbag or pornographer. I very careful, but not perfect. Only human.’
    ‘Any visitors?’ Preston asked.
    ‘No. I see who come. I see who—’ He stopped himself and looked a touch embarrassed. ‘I did not believe window could be opening.’
    ‘Well, it did take a bit of elbow grease,’ Preston agreed. ‘And he certainly didn’t do it for the fresh air.’
    Hogan sighed. ‘Doesn’t look good, does it?’
    ‘Maybe he’s a better actor than we gave him credit for.’
    Hogan flipped open his cellphone.
    ‘I’ll get approval for patrol to watch his Jeep,and get the coroner to make identifying the victims a priority. Once we know who was killed, we can figure out why.’
    Preston pulled out his own phone.