Alibi (Brantley Walker Off the Books #5) - Nicole Edwards Page 0,77
two in a short time.
“No sense in stickin’ around to see who it is,” Brantley said, glancing at Reese.
Reese agreed. If that happened to be someone sent by Max Adorite, it would be best for them to hit the ground running. Even a few minutes in front of them might help.
Still, he kept his eyes on the plane as they piled into the cars and drove away. No one exited and they didn’t pass any vehicles sent to pick up a passenger. Maybe he was overthinking this. It was possible the plane was coming to pick someone up, take them to their destination.
“Let’s focus on the task at hand,” Brantley said. “We can’t control what Max Adorite does.”
“You’re right.”
“Plus, we should have a couple of hours on him.”
Reese didn’t bother to mention Max wouldn’t be the one flying down here. They wouldn’t be waiting for someone coming from Dallas. Knowing Max, he would call in a favor from someone local. Perhaps someone in Mexico.
For all they knew, that person could already be there.
*
Brantley wasted no time heading for the most populated places. He figured if they did end up going house to house, that would be their last resort. For now he wanted to focus on the businesses, mainly restaurants and motels.
He steered the BMW into the first motel they saw, pulling into a spot near the main office.
It was a single-story setup, probably two dozen rooms if he had to guess. There were a couple of cars and one motorcycle parked in spaces in front of the rooms, but other than that, the parking lot was empty. He saw no one, only a housekeeping cart stopped outside the first room behind the office structure.
Brantley walked into the motel office, leaving Reese to keep an eye out in the parking lot.
“Welcome,” a man with thinning hair and a bushy gray beard greeted. “What can I help you with?”
Brantley held up the picture of Juliet Prince, pressed it to the plexiglass barrier. “Have you seen this woman?”
The man leaned in to get a better look, squinting. He didn’t bother to put on the glasses that were dangling around his neck.
“She looks familiar,” he said, still staring.
“She’s probably changed her hair color, maybe cut it.”
“Yeah,” he said with a nod, standing tall once more. “Sure. That could be Mary Smith.”
Mary Smith? Very original, Juliet.
Before the man could elaborate, the phone on his desk rang.
“Excuse me a minute,” the man said, turning to snatch the receiver up.
Brantley glanced around, looking out the windows as a Ford truck was pulling into the lot. He couldn’t make out the driver as it puttered past, coughing black smoke in its wake.
“Sorry ’bout that,” the manager said.
Brantley turned back around. “You said this might be Mary Smith,” he prompted.
“Oh, right. Yes. But her hair’s red now. Pretty shade, too.” The man smiled, revealing a missing left incisor. “You’re the second person whose been in here lookin’ for her today.”
Second?
Brantley sighed. “Do you have a description of the other guy?”
“Mexican fellow. Tattoos. Didn’t speak much English.” The man looked skeptical when he asked, “Are you with the police?”
“No, sir. I’m with a private investigation firm.”
“And what do you want with Mary?”
Brantley figured telling him the woman was wanted for murder could send him into a panic, so he opted for another logical explanation. “Her family hired us to find her.” He added some sympathy to his tone. “They’re worried.”
That was the right way to go based on the way the man’s face softened somewhat. “She does look sad sometimes. Probably misses them, too.”
Because they were wasting time and Brantley didn’t want to risk Juliet seeing them, he urged the man for more information. “Can you tell me what room she’s stayin’ in?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t—”
Brantley’s cell phone rang. He held up his finger for the man to wait, then answered with a gruff, “Walker.”
“You’ve got exactly twenty minutes,” the deep voice said.
“Who is this?”
“Nice to make your acquaintance, Brantley Walker. My name’s Max Adorite.”
Leaving the balding man and his various excuses behind him, Brantley walked back out to the parking lot, moving toward the car where Reese was currently standing.
“What happens in twenty minutes?” Brantley asked, mouthing to Reese that Max was on the phone as he put it on speaker.
“One of two things, I figure.”
Brantley scanned the parking lot.
“Options, I assume?”
“You’re as good as Travis says you are.”
He sighed heavily, ensuring Max heard his frustration.
“If you look across the parking lot, you’ll see a late-model Ford truck.”