Finding Their Room

Finding Their Room
Sam's POV

I walked away from her and out of the restaurant before the security could come throw my ass out. Eager eyes escorted me out. I looked around. No cameras flashing. I sighed with relief.
If this hit the tabloids, then I was sunk. Because it wouldn't be: Detective Sam harassed Lucy Callaghan. No one knows me, and I don't think I mattered so much for my name to grace the tabloid headline. It would be: Savannah Police Harassing Lucy Callaghan, the Mayor's Younger Sister.
Then I'd have dragged the entire police force into my mess, and Captain James wouldn't miss the opportunity to hand me my ass on my very hand. If I were lucky, I would get a query. I shook my head, striding out of the restaurant, hating to think of what would happen if I were unlucky.
Her contact in Warden Karo's burner phone unfortunately wasn't enough grounds to have her arrested, and I couldn't take her in for protective custody without her own consent. I ground my teeth hard, my jaw clenched tight as I marched for the front desk. Sometimes, like now. I hated that the police have so limited power and yet are expected to do so much.
I hung my arm on the smooth, tiled counter. And I looked at the receptionist's hostile face. Her eyes said she didn't want me here, but they could do nothing about it. “Can you help me find out if a certain Warden Karo has a room beside Miss Callaghan?” I asked.
She stared at me for a long, slow moment. Her clipped mouth parted to argue, but she eventually settled for a soft hiss and looked down to the monitor before her, her eyes skimming the screen, her lean finger tapping on the mouse. I wondered for a moment why she hated me, then I stopped wondering, shrugging my shoulders. That's her headache, not mine.
She shook her head. “None that I know of, Detective.” She said. Curt and clipped. “The rooms beside hers are occupied by women with names that don't share any resemblance with the one you talked about.”
I gifted her another false smile for the trouble, and I asked again. “Can you help me check if Miss Callaghan happened to book her room herself or if someone did it for her?”
Her eyes snapped at me with impatience. I tried moving for the other receptionist, but they were busy with other customers. I returned my eyes to her again, gifting her my best placating smile, and that did the magic.
She looked to her screen again for a moment, her mouse clicking off in a fast frenzy, then she dragged her gaze back to me. “She booked her room herself, and she did that at the desk here.” She answered.
That eliminated two questions. That means the flicker of shock that had claimed Lucy Callaghan's face earlier at my statements was from the fact that Warden Karo had called her here. But what was she hiding? I tapped my foot at the floor, looking away from the receptionist, my mind ticking like a clock. I had a feeling whatever conversation occurred between Warden Karo and her on the days before he killed Cecilia Rosewood must be tied to the motive for the murder. If I can get what the motive for the murder is, that would make the killer easier to find.
I turned to the receptionist, beaming up at her with another false smile that didn't thwart her hostile look. “Can you tell me when Miss Callaghan became a guest here?”
“Four days ago,” she answered crisply.
“Before this time, has she ever come by here?”
She was quiet for a moment, but another friendly smile helped her lips, and she hissed out the words softly. “The restaurant? Yes, she always visits. But booking a suite—it’s been six months since she did that.”
“Do you happen to know if there is a guest here that wears a face cap and mask around?” I asked.
“None that I know of,” she answered grudgingly.
I was about to hang my arm over the counter again and follow up with another question when I caught, from the corners of my eyes, Lucy Callaghan and Rowan walking out of the restaurant, moving in the direction of the elevator.
I turned to the receptionist again. “What floor and room are they going to?” I asked, nudging my jaw at the pair. My eyes lingered on Rowan's arm on her waist again, and I blinked off the thought beginning to stain my mind. He can do whatever he fucking wants with any woman. Why should I care?
“The tenth floor.” The receptionist answered. “Room 0957”
“Thanks, pal.” I made her another half smile, and I half-ran for the stairs, watching from the corners of my eyes as the couple waited before the elevator cage to open.
It's been a long time since I climbed so many stairs. I got to the tenth floor, and I was panting—though not so much. My breath was still very much within my control. With the time I had spent climbing, Rowan and Lucy must already be in the room.
I strolled down the long hallway, with its bright lighting and luxurious styling, panting softly, and searching around for room 0957.
I still had no idea what to do if I did get to her room, but at least I had to find it first. A door squealed open ahead of me, and Rowan walked out, his Oxford loafers clicking softly against the tiles.
He strode fast for me, his confidence and charming grin lost under his now nervous smile. Without a warning or even a word to me, he snatched my wrist once he reached me, and he pulled me fast to his body. I was still trying to fight off his grip when he leaned low and pressed his lips hard on mine—ignoring the fact that we were in a hotel corridor where people were very likely to pass by. And because of some miserable attraction to him that I couldn't get over, I let him kiss me, taking his fill of my lips.