Reticent (A Lieutenant Harrington Killer Thriller Book 11) by E.H. Reinhard

Author:E.H. Reinhard [Reinhard, E.H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-07-10T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

One hour passed and then another. After taking a handful of aspirin he dug out of the woman’s belongings and a couple of cups of coffee from the hotel room’s machine, Alan began to regain his faculties. He went through his options. Since he wasn’t planning to turn himself in, he had only a few things on the table. The first option was to run. Plain and simple. No screwing around. Get a ticket booked and get the hell out of the country. Yet Alan wasn’t certain that he needed to go straight to the nuclear option of fleeing the US straightaway. Covering up the murder would be impossible, but he could realistically cover up the fact that he was the one who’d done it. If he left no prints and no DNA evidence, all that remained to put him with the woman were the bartender at the hotel next door, who’d seen him leave with her, and whatever video the hotel might have. As Alan cleaned surfaces and gathered things, he worked on how he could take care of those two things—he’d been coming up empty.

“Damn,” Alan said.

He looked around for something to put everything in. Alan had made a pile of items that needed to be removed from the room. Sitting on the chair was an over-the-shoulder beach bag for towels and whatever else was needed for a day in the sun. The hot-pink color and floral pattern disqualified it, though. No guy would be caught dead carrying that around. Alan walked to the bathroom and looked at her toiletries bag on the sink. It was clear plastic and not something good for hiding a couple of bloody towels and a murder weapon.

“Where the hell is her luggage?” Alan mumbled.

He left the bathroom and looked down both sides of the hotel room bed—nothing. There was only one place the bags could be. Alan went to the closet and popped open the folding doors. Women’s clothing hung from the hangers. Beneath the hanging clothes were a pair of bright-purple suitcases sitting side by side. Alan snatched up the carry-on bag and pulled it out. After using his shirt to clean the prints from the closet doorknob, he wheeled the bag over to the pile that he’d made. The suitcase felt empty. The contents were probably hanging in the closet or had been placed in the chest of drawers. Alan set the bag on the floor, unzipped the top, and tossed everything in—the bourbon bottle that he’d used to beat the woman to death, a half-dozen empty mini bottles of booze that had been scattered all over the floor, the empty container from the nachos that he’d ordered, and a few towels that he’d used to clean up every surface that he might or might not have touched. All of it went into the bag. Alan walked to the bathroom and grabbed the towel that he’d used after his shower. He wiped down the faucet handles, doorknob, and entire top of the chest of drawers as he took the towel back to the suitcase then tossed it inside.

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