Out of the Past: A Reed Ferguson Mystery Part 19

"Yeah, I think I have everything here to rig something up."

"Good, then we can get into the room and look around."

"What's with the 'we'?" Cal's focus stayed on the screen. "You can break into the room without me. You now know how."

"I need you to be the lookout. You can stay in the lobby and if she comes back while I'm in her room, you call me and I can get out."

He whirled around. "I told you, I don't want to do field work."

"It'll be fine," I said. "You'll be in the lobby. There'll be other people around. Perfectly safe."

"And if we go there and she's in her room?"

"Then I'll call Detective Spillman and let her handle the arrest." I smiled. "She'll be pleased I didn't do things on my own."

He stared at me, then stood up. "Let's get this over with."

I pumped my fist again.

A little after six o'clock, we parked in the Regency Inn lot.

"Megan's not there," I said, putting my cell phone away. I'd just called the hotel and asked for her room number and they connected me, but the phone rang with no answer.

"Unless she's ignoring it," Cal said.

"Always the optimist," I said as we got out. "Okay, you sit in the lobby, and if you see her come in, call me."

"Be careful."

"I've got my gun," I said.

Cal rolled his eyes as we went inside. High-back chairs sat in a room near the front desk, and a few people milled about, but otherwise the lobby was quiet. I strolled to the elevators, got in, and punched the number for the 6th floor. A few moments later, I emerged from the elevators and glanced around. All was quiet.

I went to 601, at the end of the hall, and put my ear to the door and listened. Nothing. I knocked and braced myself in case Megan answered. Still nothing, so I took out the device Cal had rigged up, inserted it into the lock, and presto, I heard a click and the doork.n.o.b gave.

I let myself into the room and shut the door. Darkness enveloped me and I let my eyes adjust. I waited a moment, then flicked on my flashlight. The room was small, stuffed with two queen-sized beds covered with teal comforters. Across from them were a small desk with a laptop and backpack on it, a desk chair, an armoire with a TV, and a nightstand between the beds.

I went to the desk and fired up the laptop. It was pa.s.sword-protected, which didn't surprise me, but it was worth a try. I opened the backpack. Inside was a journal. I opened it, and as I shuffled through it all, I was flabbergasted. Megan had been in a relationship with Rebecca, and it was clear from her journal that she'd been madly in love with Rebecca. Whether Rebecca had felt the same way was unclear, but what was obvious was that Rebecca had told Megan about her initiation into the secret group. And after Rebecca's death, Megan knew who to blame. She'd obsessed about what she'd do to the secret organization. And obsession had turned to madness as she plotted and planned how she would take out each member of the group.

"This is it," I muttered. I pulled out my phone and called Cal, knowing he'd be worrying, not so much about me, but about when he could leave.

"What?" he said.

"I've got it, all the information. Megan kept a journal. It's all written out."

"Then get out of there and let's call your detective friend."

"I'm going to take pictures of this and then I'll be "

"What?"

"She's back!" I hissed, hearing someone outside the door.

I flicked off the flashlight, pocketed my phone, and sat down on the edge of the bed. The door opened and a rectangle of light from the hallway illuminated the other bed. Someone entered the room and shut the door. The room plunged into darkness for a second, then I found myself blinking as the lights came on. Megan Greene, in her gray hoodie, strolled into the room, carrying an iPad.

"h.e.l.lo," I said.

I expected her to be taken aback. She was, but only momentarily. Before I could move she threw the iPad at me.

"Ow!" I said, grabbing my arm where it hit me. I stood up, expecting her to be reasonable. Wrong again.

She charged at me, tackling me back onto the bed. She was on me so fast, I was not able to get to my gun. I tried to roll away, but she fought like a cornered lion. She struck out, landing a couple of chopping hits to my side and I gasped. I had no time to react. She quickly had her arm around my neck in a powerful choke hold. We struggled on the bed, and I clutched at her arms, but her hold around my neck grew stronger as she got behind me and put her body into it. Stars formed in my vision. I was about to pa.s.s out when I remembered something I'd read about breaking a choke hold. Turn your head and tuck your chin into the person's elbow and at the same time, put your thumb under their elbow and push. The thumb's pressure causes the arm to loosen and you can duck out of the hold.

I quickly did this, and d.a.m.ned it if it didn't work. I dropped to the bed, coughing and hacking, then I rolled and fell to the floor at the end of the bed. Megan roared again and dove at me. I twisted away, clutching at the laptop on the desk. I picked it up and swung it hard, striking her squarely on the head. Her hands flew to her head and she moaned as she dropped to the floor. I whacked her one more time and she went still. I stayed on my knees, gasping for breath. c.r.a.p, did I kill her? I reached out and checked her pulse. It was going strong. I'd just knocked her out.

I struggled to my feet, still coughing and gasping, and backed away from her. Someone banged on the door. I rushed to it and flung it open. And a fist socked me right in the eye.

"Ow!" I said for the second time in the span of five minutes.

"Ow!" said the owner of the fist.

"What the h.e.l.l?" I backed up and stumbled over Megan. I hit the floor hard and cursed. "What was that for?"

Cal stared down at me, rubbing his knuckles. "I didn't know it was you." He saw Megan's body and backed up. "What happened?"

"She attacked me." I stood up and pulled my gun from my ankle holster. "I'll guard her while you go get the manager."

"What about the detective?"

"I'll call Spillman, too."

"Will you be all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I said, gesturing at the door. "Go get help."

Without another word, he hurried out of the room.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN.

"Let me get this straight," Spillman said. "You were hired to be a bodyguard for Forrest McMahon's daughter. During the time that you were guarding her, you found out that she was involved in a secret clique with some friends during college, and that someone was killing the members of this clique because of an accidental death. And you had reason to believe that this woman, Megan Greene, was the one doing the killing. Once you deduced this, you found out, just by calling around, that she was staying at this particular hotel, so you came here, just to talk to her. When she opened her room door and saw you, she panicked and hit you. You got into a scuffle in her room and you knocked her out."

I nodded. "Yes, that's what I said."

Spillman and I were standing down the hall from Megan's room. While Spillman's partners, Young and Moore, had taken Megan in for more questions, Spillman had stayed behind to interrogate me. Before she'd arrived, I'd sent Cal to the car to wait, because I didn't want her to know he was involved in any of this. And it was clear that Spillman didn't believe my story. She stared at me, her arms crossed.

"And then I called you," I said.

"I'm so glad you did," she said. "I'd hate to see you take the law into your own hands." If sarcasm was bullets flying at me, I'd be dead. I kept a straight face, watching her as she chewed on my account of events. She was dressed up in a gray skirt and pink silk blouse, and she had on more makeup than I'd ever noticed before. I think I was keeping her from a date, which might explain some of her mood. "I don't know what to do with you," she muttered.

"Why's that? I'm a h.e.l.luva guy, once you get to know me." I poured on the charm. Better that than ending up in jail like Megan.

She sighed. "You do realize that your story doesn't match Megan's? She says you broke into her room and when she came in, you attacked her."

"That is not true." Well, part of it wasn't true, but I wasn't copping to that. "Detective Spillman, the bottom line is I think Megan Greene killed a couple of people."

She nodded. "And we'll take it from here, agreed?"

"Absolutely."

"I'll need to speak with Stephanie and her friends."

"I think I can convince them that it would be in their best interests." Let the secret-society three decide what they wanted to tell the police, and let the police handle it. I was going to call Forrest McMahon when I finished here, and then I was calling this case closed. I wanted no part of them anymore.

She gave me the onceover. "That eye's going to be black and blue tomorrow. It'll go nicely with the cut on your head."

I gingerly touched the skin underneath my eye. "I've had worse."

"I don't want to know about it. If we cross paths again, let's hope you'll be a little more straightforward."

"But I got the bad guy."

"You were lucky."

"It can't be luck all the time."

She started down the hall to the elevator. "We'll see about that," she called over her shoulder. "Take care, Ferguson." She got on the elevator and was gone.

I breathed a sigh of relief. One of these days Spillman was going to get tired of my lies and arrest me.

When I returned to the car, Cal was typing away at a laptop, the monitor glow turning his face an eerie bluish-gray color.

"What're you doing?" I asked as I got in and cranked the key.

"I'm still trying to find out how McMahon knew about your involvement in Chancellor," he said. "How'd it go in there?"

"Spillman doesn't believe a word I said, but she's got a suspect, so I think that buys me a teeny bit of grace. And I didn't tell her anything about you."

"Good." He shut down his computer. "I'll look at this later." Then he turned on me, letting loose emotions I'm sure had been pent-up since I'd first asked him to help. "Do you know how many times I've been in danger because of you?"

I laughed. "You love it."

"Well..." he paused. "Did it ever occur to you that people worry about you?"

That hit me like a fist in the gut. "Yes," I finally said. "But I love what I'm doing. Am I supposed to give that up?"

"How should I know?" He rubbed his hands over his face. "Can't you be a little more careful?"

"You're starting to sound like my mother," I murmured.

"Oh, that's cold."

"I'll try to be more cautious," I said.

"Forget I said anything. Let's get home. I don't trust those three kids around my stuff."

"We left them playing video games, and I'm sure when we get home, they'll still be playing video games."

"You better be right."

I was. When we got back to Cal's house half an hour later, Aiden and Bennett were deep into a game of Halo, and Stephanie was dozing on the couch. She flew to her feet when we came in. "What happened?" she asked.

"Megan's with the police right now," I said.

"So now you can leave," Cal said.

Stephanie glared at him. "Oh, relax."

Aiden flopped back on the couch. "We're finally free of all this."

I held up a hand. "Not so fast. The police want to question you three."

"You told them about us?" Bennett asked.

"I told them that someone was trying to kill Stephanie because the police already knew about her. And I mentioned your little secret group, but I didn't get into the specifics. They can talk to Stephanie, and she can share what she wants. If she wants to cover for you all, that's her business." I glanced at Stephanie. Her face contorted into a mixture of anger and fear. "I have a feeling she'll want to tell the police everything."

"Why wouldn't I?" she snapped.

"You want us all to get in trouble?" Bennett asked.

She threw him a mean look. "I don't care."

I held up a hand. "She should tell the police everything. Let them know it was an accident. And you two," I gestured at Aiden and Bennett, "can corroborate this. I still think you might face involuntary manslaughter charges, but who knows? Maybe after all this time, you'll get off lightly. I'm sure your families have the resources to keep you out of jail."

"Oh, our parents will know how to help." Aiden put his hands over his face.

"He's right," Bennett said. "With their own group " he caught himself, then continued, "I mean, their connections, they'll be able to help. We should've gone to them in the first place."

"That's settled then," I said. "Let me take you home."