Peter Decker 2-Book Thriller Collection by Faye Kellerman

Peter Decker 2-Book Thriller Collection by Faye Kellerman

Author:Faye Kellerman [Faye Kellerman]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2009-01-15T00:00:00+00:00


ALTHOUGH THE ACTUAL hotel was a series of connected low-profile, pink stucco bungalows topped with a Mediterranean red-tiled roof, the lobby was a stand-alone building. Through the window, Decker could see the registration desk with a uniformed woman flipping through files, an empty concierge desk, and a suite of traditional furniture facing a stone fireplace. One of the beige chairs was taken up by a lanky adolescent—The Thinker done by Giacometti. He and Rina went inside and the thin kid looked up, then stood up. Decker tried out a reassuring smile. “Gabe?”

He nodded. Good-looking kid—an aquiline nose, strong chin, a mop of dirty blond hair, and gem-quality emerald eyes that sat behind a pair of frameless glasses. Not much bulk, but he had the same kind of wiry muscle that his dad had as a teenager. He appeared to be grazing the six-foot mark.

Decker held out his hand and the boy shook it. “How are you doing?” The kid shrugged helplessly. “This is my wife. She’s going to wait here for me … or for us. Still haven’t heard from anyone?”

“No, sir.” He looked at Rina as much as he did at Decker. “I’m sorry to drag you down here. It’s probably nothing.”

“Whatever it is, it’s not a problem. Let’s take a walk back to the room.”

The woman at the registration desk looked up. “Is everything all right. Mr. Whitman?”

“Uh, yeah.” Gabe forced a smile. “Fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Gabe nodded quickly. Decker turned to Rina. “See you in a few.”

“Take your time.”

Decker and his charge went outside into the cool misty air, neither of them speaking as they walked. The pathways looked different at night than they had in the daytime. With the artificial colored lighting slipped between the plantings, the entire complex looked surreal, like a movie set. Gabe twisted and turned from one garden to another until they came to the bungalow he shared with his mother. He opened the door, flipped on the light switch, and the two of them stepped inside.

“Just like I left it,” Gabe said.

And not too different from when Decker had left. The flowers that Chris had given Terry had been put into a vase and sat on the sofa table. Donatti’s Scotch glass lay in the sink of the bar. The trash had been cleared and the living-room sofa had been folded out into a bed, a room service breakfast menu and a few chocolates left on a silver tray. Water on the coffee table and music coming from a Bose stereo system, the station set on classical music.

“You sleep here?”

Gabe nodded.

Decker walked into the bedroom. Terry’s bed had also been prepared. “Were the beds turned down when you arrived here at around six?”

“No, sir, they came in later. Around eight.” A pause. “I probably shouldn’t have let them in, huh.”

“It doesn’t matter, Gabe.” Decker studied the room. There were a lot of clothes in the closet and a small safe. Decker asked the boy if he knew the combination number.

“Uh, not to this one.



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