CHAPTER 19
Morning greeted Parker with a gray sky and drizzling rain. Drops slid slowly down the glass, leaving winding trails behind.
He opened his eyes and spent a long time staring at the ceiling.
His head was still buzzing, his body ached, but he had to admit it: Hong’s hellish tea had worked. He had passed out for several hours, and now, at least, he could stay on his feet.
Rick washed his face with cold water and looked at his reflection. Bruises under his eyes, pale skin, a heavy gaze. He gave a quiet snort, shook his head, and drew a deep breath. Doubt had stayed somewhere in yesterday. Today, he had no right to be unsteady.
He ate something quickly, pulling on his jacket as he went, and almost forgot his phone by the door. Before leaving, his gaze caught, despite himself, on the wall covered in threads, photographs, and notes.
For several seconds, he looked at it in silence.
Then he took a deep breath, turned off the lights, and closed the door behind him.
The rain still hadn’t stopped.
Raising the collar of his jacket, Rick crossed the yard at a brisk pace and got into the car. On the way to the station, the wipers moved rhythmically across the windshield, wiping away the rain, while gray streets fell behind one after another.
He didn’t turn on the radio once.
He entered the station as usual — freely, almost automatically, as though coming home. He greeted a couple of familiar faces, but the words sounded dull, barely staying in his memory. The murmur of voices, ringing phones, the creak of chairs — all of it merged into one heavy hum that throbbed unpleasantly somewhere in his temples.
Rick’s gaze briefly slid over the yellow flower in the vase. He went to his desk and carefully laid out his notes, photographs, and the scraps of truth he had been gathering almost grain by grain over the past few days.
A burst of laughter came from the far end of the bullpen.
“Cheating again?” a broad-shouldered sergeant grumbled, squinting as he leaned across the desk and tried to peek at the cards.
“What makes you think that?” the man in glasses protested, quickly covering them with his hand. “I won fair and square.”
“Of course. Just as fair as that time the guys and I got together to watch the game.”
Kowalski smirked lazily and leaned back in his chair.
“Well… that time I really was cheating. But not now.”
“Show me your pockets.”
“Don’t even think about it.”
But Driscoll had already leaned across the table and, ignoring the protests, shoved a hand straight
into the pocket of his jacket.
“Get your paws off me!” Kowalski laughed, trying unsuccessfully to push him away.
A second later, the sergeant pulled out a playing card with a triumphant expression.
“You old bastard! You were cheating!”
Kowalski snatched the card back in irritation, adjusted his crooked glasses, and only snorted.
“That was a spare.”
“Sure. Tell me another one.”
Driscoll happily slapped his round belly.
“That’s it. Lunch is on you.”
Kowalski rolled his eyes dramatically, but a second later they were both laughing again as though there had never been any argument between them.
Rick shook his head and returned to his work.
Taking the top photograph from the stack, he studied Coop’s face for a long time. His head, still heavy after the night, began to throb dully again.
He exhaled sharply and leaned back in his chair.
Everything fit.
And that was exactly what wouldn’t let him rest.
Caroline had bought doses from Coop — Turner had confirmed that directly. Sarah had last been seen near his pickup. After Katie’s disappearance, Coop had been the only one noticeably nervous during questioning, and Rick had seen that with his own eyes.
The picture was coming together too neatly. So neatly that, inside, a strange, almost inexplicable anxiety kept growing stronger.
The longer he looked at the photograph, the less he thought about whether Cooper was guilty or not, and the more another question pressed at him: why did every road lead so unerringly to one man? As though someone had placed every clue exactly where it belonged in advance, leaving them only to follow someone else’s tracks and mistake them for their own conclusions.
He carefully set the photograph down on the desk and tiredly rubbed his face with both hands.
A familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts.
“You look better. I see the tea helped after all,” Hong observed with satisfaction, appearing beside him.
Rick slowly raised his eyes to him.
“If that counts as help, I’m afraid to imagine what your grandmother calls poison.”
Billy laughed quietly.
“So the recipe worked. Look at you. You slept and woke up practically fresh.”
“I’d rather not have woken up at all…” He tiredly pinched the bridge of his nose. “I still can’t forget that taste.”
“Come on, it wasn’t that bad. It also strengthens the immune system.” He smiled softly, sitting on the edge of Rick’s desk. “Julie and I were treated with nothing but that since childhood. And look at me. I can walk around with my jacket open and no illness scares me.”
Rick only snorted.
Billy’s gaze slipped over the desk. Coop’s photograph still lay on top.
“Back to work first thing in the morning?” he asked quietly, automatically picking up the picture.
“Yeah,” Rick answered in the same low tone. “It didn’t disappear just because I slept.”
For a few seconds, Billy looked at him in silence, then nodded in understanding and put the photograph back.
“All right, then. I won’t distract you… I’ll go help Maria. Yesterday she threatened to drown me in paperwork if I ran off again.”
“Don’t tempt fate,” Rick muttered without raising his head.
Billy smiled faintly and headed toward the reception desk.
Rick watched him for a while longer, tiredly rubbed his eyes, and only then noticed the door to Lake’s office. His gaze lingered on it longer than it should have.
He didn’t understand at what point he had risen from his desk.
A few slow steps — and now he was standing in front of it.
His hand hesitantly settled on the cold metal handle.
For a moment, Rick stopped.
What am I even doing?..But no answer came.
The handle gave a quiet creak, the door slowly opened inward, and the office greeted him with an unfamiliar silence.
Everything remained exactly as Aaron had left it several days ago. As though he had only stepped out for a few minutes.
Rick slowly let his gaze travel over the office, pausing on every small detail as if seeing them for the first time. Then he carefully approached the desk, barely touched the wooden surface with his fingertips, and only after hesitating a little lowered himself into the chair.
It rocked quietly beneath his weight.
Rick closed his eyes.
For some reason, here, in this room, the endless noise in his head became a little quieter.
He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. Folded his arms on the desk and carefully lowered his head onto them, pressing his cheek against them.
His fingers reached on their own toward the pen lying slightly askew across some papers. Then slowly slid farther — to the mug forgotten beside the laptop.
He touched it.
The smooth, cool porcelain chilled his fingers pleasantly.
Come back soon…The thought flashed so unexpectedly that Rick himself was startled by it.
Rick abruptly straightened, as though trying to shake it off at once, and was about to leave when his gaze caught on something dark by the door.
He froze.
A scarf.
It hung calmly on the hook by the door. It had been here all along, patiently waiting for its owner.
Rick couldn’t understand how he hadn’t noticed it last time.
A strange, almost anxious feeling appeared in his chest, as though if he took one more step, he would cross some invisible line.
He had already reached for it, but stopped at the last second. His fingers hung in the air.
Stupid.
It was just a scarf. An ordinary warm dark-blue scarf.
But…
Then why had his heart suddenly started beating so heavily?
He swallowed quietly and still touched the soft wool with his fingertips. Slowly ran his palm over the fabric, feeling how easily it slid beneath his hand, then carefully took it off the hook and spent another few seconds simply holding it in front of him, unable to bring himself to do anything else.
The memory rose on its own: Aaron’s broad shoulders, the familiar gesture with which he adjusted the scarf around his neck before stepping outside.
He had probably just forgotten it here before the flight.
Although… no.
More likely he had left it on purpose. He wouldn’t need it in Miami anyway.
Rick frowned despite himself.
The conference had probably already ended. And today he no longer doubted that Aaron had spoken there, then been buried under a pile of ridiculous questions to which he had only silently raised an eyebrow, preferring not to answer.
Rick could almost see the picture before his eyes, and suddenly caught himself wanting to know how it had gone. The desire seemed so absurd that he gave a faint laugh at himself.
He slowly lifted the scarf a little higher.
It still felt like there was time to change his mind. Put it back, leave the office, and pretend none of this had happened. But instead, Rick carefully brought it to his face and, not understanding why, breathed in deeply.
The air seemed to catch in his chest.
Pine, citrus, and bitter green tea.
A faint scent, almost gone, and painfully familiar.
He slowly closed his eyes.
For one brief moment, it felt as though Aaron were standing right beside him. So close that all Rick had to do was reach out and he could touch his shoulder.
His heart painfully missed a beat, and his legs suddenly felt strangely weak.
He had to tighten his fingers around the scarf, because it was the only way to hold on to reality.
When the feeling slowly receded, he still didn’t dare open his eyes for a while.
He simply stood in the middle of the empty office, clutching someone else’s scarf to himself, and for the first time in days felt not emptiness, not anger, and not fear, but only a quiet, almost painful calm.
Only after several endlessly long seconds did he, without really knowing why, carefully wrap the scarf around his own neck.
The soft wool warmed his skin at once, and Rick buried his nose in it again.
I’ll borrow it for one evening. You won’t mind, will you?..The thought sounded almost guilty.
I’ll give it back later.Rick closed the office door more hastily than he meant to and remained standing in the corridor, tightly gripping the key in his hand.
His heart was still beating too fast.
He raked a hand irritably through his hair, as if trying to erase the last few minutes, then took a deep breath and walked through the bullpen with decisive steps.
Billy was writing something with deep concentration.
“Come smoke with me.”
Hong raised his head.
“Now? Sure, I just…”
But Rick only jerked his chin toward the exit and, without waiting for an answer, walked on. Billy blinked in surprise, exhaled quietly, snapped his notebook shut, and hurried after him.
Outside, the rain was still drizzling. Beneath the awning by the back exit, it smelled of wet asphalt and damp wood.
Rick pulled out his cigarettes almost immediately.
For some reason, his fingers obeyed worse than usual.
He clicked the lighter on the third try, took a deep drag, and only then felt his breathing begin to steady little by little.
Silently, he held the pack out to Billy.
Billy looked at him questioningly, but still took a cigarette.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
The answer came too quickly, and Billy only narrowed his eyes slightly, but said nothing.
For a while, they smoked in silence, listening to the rain tapping against the awning.
Only after that did Rick finally speak.
“We need to head out.”
“Already?” Billy was surprised. “The meeting’s still a few hours away.”
“Better to get there early. Look around. Check the hotel. See the emergency exits.”
Billy was silent for a little while, thinking it over.
“All right… I agree.”
He was already turning toward the car when he suddenly slapped his pocket.
“Damn… my notebook. I left it on the desk.”
“Don’t go back for it.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s no time.”
Hong looked at him in surprise. Rick rarely rushed him without a reason.
“Okay.”
The young man stubbed his cigarette out against the edge of the trash can and took a few steps after Rick, but suddenly stopped again.
His gaze involuntarily lingered on the dark-blue scarf wrapped carelessly around Rick’s neck. For several seconds, he stayed silent, trying to remember where he had seen it before, and then his eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“Wait, isn’t that Detective Lake’s scarf?”
Rick tensed almost imperceptibly and automatically adjusted the fabric at his neck.
“Yeah. So?”
“Nothing,” Billy said, a little thrown. “It’s just… I thought he never took it off.”
“He forgot it before the trip,” Rick answered shortly.
Hong looked at the scarf once more.
“Huh… okay. Shall we go?”
Rick gave a short nod, shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, and headed for the car first.
***
The Morning Star Hotel, long past its best years, greeted them with cool air and the smell of old wood.
Tourists and business travelers had probably come here once: a spacious lobby, heavy chandeliers, a wide staircase, carpets with intricate patterns. Now all of it was still in place, but it looked tired. In some spots, the carpet had been worn almost down to the backing, the wallpaper had begun to peel away at the seams, and the soft yellow light of the lamps no longer hid the building’s age.
In the lobby, two guests were speaking quietly. Their suitcases stood by the wall, and a young receptionist was bored at the front desk, clicking a pen absentmindedly. Behind him hung a small monitor showing the security cameras.
Rick’s gaze slid over it.
Lobby, parking lot, restaurant…
There were fewer cameras than he had expected.
After receiving the key, they headed toward the stairs at an unhurried pace.
Near the elevator, Rick gave the faintest nod in its direction. Billy nodded briefly and turned toward the elevator, while Rick, without slowing down, continued up the stairs.
Already at the first landing, Rick pushed the heavy fire door as if by accident. It opened easily, revealing an emergency exit onto a narrow concrete stairwell.
He glanced down, noted that the lock didn’t jam and that the closer returned the door smoothly into place, then continued on as though nothing had happened.
When he reached the next floor, he unexpectedly turned into the opposite wing. It became quieter at once.
Several doors stood open. Along the wall were cans of paint, rolls of linoleum, and stacked sheets of drywall. Half the corridor was blocked off with warning tape, and farther on he could already see scaffolding and removed ceiling panels.
After making sure there was no one farther ahead, Rick calmly returned to the stairs.
Meanwhile, Billy took the elevator slowly up to the fifth floor.
He couldn’t rush.
He stopped at the coffee machine, dropped in a few coins, and waited while the plastic cup slowly filled with hot coffee. All the while, he looked around the corridor as if casually: room doors, a fire detector, the evacuation plan on the wall.
When the machine beeped softly, Billy took the cup and had a small sip. The coffee was too hot and burned his tongue unpleasantly. The young man grimaced despite himself, took another careful sip, and slowly walked farther along the rooms.
Fifth door. Sixth.
He was about to go back when he suddenly dropped the key awkwardly.
“Damn…”
Billy crouched down, picked it up from the carpet, and, while straightening, discreetly let his gaze slide upward.
A single camera hung above the elevator.
He was about to keep walking, but something made him stop.
Something didn’t add up.
He slowly drank a little more coffee, turned around without hurry, and passed beneath the camera again.
Stopping by the machine, he took another sip.
For several seconds, he absentmindedly studied the colorful buttons, choosing between a chocolate bar and chocolate candies, while secretly lifting his eyes.
The little indicator light wasn’t on.
Billy frowned.
Is that how it’s supposed to be?.. Or is it usually supposed to glow?The lens was turned slightly to the side, as though it were looking not at the corridor but somewhere past it.
But Hong didn’t rush to conclusions. He lingered by the machine a little longer, then finally pressed the button for M&M’s. While the packet fell into the tray with a soft thud, he raised his eyes discreetly once more.
No. He hadn’t imagined it.
The lens really was pointed past the corridor. Even if the camera worked, it would be useless.
That made no sense.
Which meant…
The camera was fake.
Billy took the candy, slipped it into his pocket, and gave the faintest nod to himself.
When he returned to the stairs, Rick was already waiting for him by the window at the end of the corridor. They only exchanged a brief glance.
Judging by Parker’s calm expression, he had managed to find what he was looking for too.
Without saying a word, they went down to the fourth floor.
The room was modest, but perfectly suitable for what they needed. Almost all the free space was taken up by two neatly made single beds separated by a small nightstand. An old writing desk stood by the window, with the only armchair beside it.
Because of the low ceiling and the dim wall-lamp, the room seemed even more cramped than it actually was.
The air held the faint smell of laundered sheets mixed with the dust of old furniture.
The door closed quietly behind them.
“I did what you asked,” Billy said quietly, setting the empty cup on the desk. The plastic crackled softly under his fingers. “Checked everything without being obvious. There are cameras on every floor.”
Rick nodded thoughtfully and slowly sat down on the edge of the bed. His fingers found the hanging end of the scarf on their own.
“The second wing is under renovation. And unless they rent out rooms with scaffolding, there’s no one there.”
Billy sat on the other bed. The mattress creaked softly under his weight. He automatically put a hand into his pocket, pulled out the yellow packet of M&M’s, and, opening it, continued as if in passing:
“Better for us. Cuts the search area in half.”
Rick raised his head to look at him.
