Finding Lucy Callaghan

Finding Lucy Callaghan
Sam’s POV

It was night already, the moonlight bright on the world, gleaming over the roofs of the cars parked in the parking lot.
I dropped down the small stairs before the precinct slowly, my jacket on my arm. I jingled my keys in my hand, throwing them into the air and catching them, while I strolled for my car. Though I was throwing and catching my keys, I wasn't even so aware of the act. My mind was elsewhere. How do I get to see Lucy Callaghan? The official routes would take some time and would also tip off the mayor as well as Alex, who was the last person I wanted in on this. I had to find a way to find her. A way that wouldn't tip off Alex and the mayor.
I pulled the car door and dropped into the driver seat with a heavy sigh. I was still nowhere near a solution in my head. I adjusted myself on the seat, tapping gently at the steering wheel, hoping I could drum up something if I reached deeper into my mind.
Lucy Callaghan was a popular socialite, always out to party, always in the news, even before her brother became the mayor. I tapped my finger on the steering wheel faster, my mind ticking like a clock. If I could find out her social media handles, that could give me a clue to where she was. I grinned at myself at a thought. That seemed plausible enough.
With that, I snatched my phone from my pocket, unlocking it with my fingerprint. I was about to hit the media app when I paused, pressing the edge of the phone between my teeth, my eyes narrowed in space. What if I find her? Won't she inform her brother, the mayor, or Alex about me?I do keep her from doing that. And worse, she knows me, though vaguely, after a brief encounter where Alex had introduced me to her as his fiancée.
I kept tapping my phone against my teeth, my mind heavy with thought. When I pondered about it for a while without any solution, I shrugged my shoulders, sitting up on the car. I should worry about that after I find her. For now, I needed to know where the hell she is, at home or wherever Warden Karo could reach her.
From the little I know of her and Alex's relationship, they don't really get along well. So I assured myself that things were still in the safe zone, and I resumed engaging the media.
I moved from one social media outlet to another, hunting for news of her. I finally had my big break when I searched Google for the latest about Lucy Callaghan. Something popped up from a gossip blog. I clicked on it, and a short article popped into view on my screen, talking about how she was spotted kissing a strange handsome man in some hotel restaurant and then hauled off like a bride by the same man.
A video sat underneath the gossip, and I tapped on it to see, from a distant side view, where the video was shot from: a man holding Lucy Callaghan by the waist, his lips firm on hers, and they kissed passionately—as passionately as could be considered appropriate in such a public setting. The man’s face didn't show well throughout the video because of the distance of the recorder and the men standing near it, but the wavy chestnut hair, tousled gently, was familiar—almost like Rowan.
I scoffed at the direction of my guess. It certainly couldn't be Rowan. He was probably the most handsome and charming man I had ever seen, but there was no way he could have gotten involved with a lady like Lucy Callaghan. An influential lady like her would have no use for a bum con artist like Rowan even if he looked like Henry Cavill and Michael Jordan rolled into one.It was just impossible. The video was just last night, so there was every possibility that she was still there.
I read the address of the hotel on the article as The Grand Verdant, and I started the car, heard the engine hum softly to life, and reversed, accelerated, and sent the car into the road.
The cars on the rows faded like a blur past me. I thought as I drove. According to the call log of Warden Karo's burner phone, he had called Cecilia Rosewood to the Perry Lane hotel to kill her. What if he called Lucy to the Grand Verdant also? What if she was there because she was about to get killed too?
That struck a sudden chill through me, my hands vibrating on the steering wheel, and I stepped harder on the gas, beating up the speed as much as was legal. I arrived at the Grand Verdant about twenty minutes later, and I ran fast into the hotel lobby and went straight ahead to the front desk.
One of the three receptionists behind the counter had a hard look at me. Her gaze was critical, lashes flapping like fans on autostart. “I know,” I said in my head. “I know I don't look like a customer.” I looked as out of place here as a priest in a brothel. A meal here probably costs more than my salary for two months.
I dropped back from the counter a little and shifted my holster, which had turned around, giving her a good view of my badge and gun.
That only dropped her critical look a shade. I guess she hated cops as much as she hated a poor non-customer.
“How can I help you, cop?” She asked, her tone curt but flat.
“Is Miss Lucy Callaghan still here?” I asked.
“I am afraid I can't…”
“Do I need a warrant to get that, Miss?” I demanded, making my tone tough.
She finally grumbled, “Yes.”
“Can you go through your list of clients for me and find out if you have a man by the name Warden Karo in any room near Miss Lucy Callaghan, or if there has ever been anyone of a shady character booking a room near hers in days?”
The receptionist's eyes tightened more now. “I am afraid you are going to need warrants for those, cop.” She replied, her tone no longer curt, just straight out flat like her forehead.
I was about to talk some sense to her when she glanced over my shoulder. “I believe that's who you are looking for, cop.” She nudged her eyes and jaw beyond me.
I turned then, my eyes searching the massive hotel lobby until I found her. But she wasn't alone. A tall man walked beside her, the same man she’d kissed in the video. At first, I thought it was someone else—some handsome young billionaire. But he turned his head, and I went weak in the knees instantly, my eyes stretched like zeros on my head—Rowan.