Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [669]
She keyed open the minibar, suddenly too thirsty and too tired to search for a vending machine. She started to grab a bottle of water when she saw the miniature bottle of Chivas. She sat back on her feet, staring at it, and suddenly her thirst wasn’t quite as great as before. She plucked the miniature bottle out of the fridge, immediately noticing how tiny it felt between her fingers. The bottle was so small it could hardly be worth it. Yet she set it and the bottled water on the small table in the corner and decided if she had the Chivas on the rocks it would be okay.
She grabbed the ice bucket, made sure she had her room’s key card and left in stocking feet to search for the ice machine, realizing that only seconds earlier she had been too tired to even search for a vending machine. Amazing what a phone call from a child-murdering priest, a confession from an abuse victim and a reminder of Albert Stucky could do for the sight of a bottle of Chivas. And what an appropriate combination.
She found the ice machine at the other end of the hallway and started filling the bucket, when she heard someone walk by the small alcove but then stop and come back.
She turned to find Nick Morrelli in a T-shirt, khaki shorts and bare feet, a newspaper tucked under his arm and a hotel key card in his hand.
“Of all the hotels in this city, they had to put you in this one.”
CHAPTER 63
The Embassy Suites
Omaha, Nebraska
Nick knew he should apologize. He had felt it even during their earlier meeting, that he was out of line, acting defensive…well, this morning he needed to act defensive on Tony’s behalf, but now…now it was ridiculous.
“I’m not the one suspecting your friend,” she said. Nick thought she looked exhausted, her eyes searching around. Was she hoping for an escape route? “A friendly piece of advice, tell him to stop being so evasive and answer the OPD’s questions. He’s only hurting himself by making them believe he has something to hide.”
Nick leaned against the wall, a bit exhausted himself, and crossed his arms over his chest, the newspaper still tucked. “I’ve told him,” he said, letting down his guard and allowing his frustration to show. “I’ve told him exactly that. He won’t listen to me, either.”
For the first time her eyes met his and for a brief moment he was reminded of that time four years ago when they were working the Platte City case. Why was it that whenever he slipped and showed her he wasn’t quite in control, she seemed to connect with him most?
“Do you think he has something to hide?”
“I don’t know, but I’ve known Tony Gallagher since we were both five years old. He can be stubborn and he can talk his way out of just about anything. But I know he couldn’t kill someone.”
“Even if he thought it was the right thing?”
“What do you mean?”
Nick waited while Maggie set the ice bucket at her stocking feet and leaned against the wall, crossing her arms to mirror him. He noticed that she had shed her jacket and wore only a white knit blouse still tucked into the waistband of her suit trousers. She looked good, better than ever. Despite looking exhausted at the moment, Nick sensed there was something about her that seemed…content. Had she finally put the demons of her past behind her?
“I’m convinced,” she said, “that this killer thinks he’s doing the right thing. Maybe even that he’s doing the work of the Lord.”
A chill slid down Nick’s back, enough of a chill to make him admit that maybe he was wrong. He had been thinking about what Tony had said earlier—off the record, friend to friend—about his confrontation with Monsignor O’Sullivan. Tony said he had told him—no, he had warned him—that if the allegations were true, he wouldn’t sit back and be quiet. But what did that mean?
Before Nick could say anything another guest came down the hall, ice bucket in hand, and Maggie moved out of the alcove’s doorway. The woman smiled at the two of them, and they made small talk about the weather while she filled her ice bucket.