Chapter 48 Ch. 30.1
"Okay," she answered even though she wasn't satisfied. She picked up her phone as she stepped outside into the parking lot.
She scrolled through her contacts, thumb hesitating over Marcos name for a bit before she pressed call.
“Yes, you're delivering to the station,” came a very cautious voice.
“Yes. Extra cheese with pepperoni. Let me know if we can send the delivery now..."
"All clear now," came his choice after a while. “Already sounds like trouble,” he muttered.
"Did you really order pizza?"
"I actually did. We're kind of having a tough time here so yeah... pizza while we work."
"Not very professional of you guys."
"Try being here. It's a fucking madhouse because of this case. And before you say anything—no, I can’t help you. I’d be risking my badge.”
“I’m not asking for classified files,” she lied smoothly. “Just one more thing. The footage. Did you get anything from it?”
There was silence on the line, followed by a dry laugh. “Well, let me just burst all our bubbles right now. The footage was corrupted. We’ll be putting out a press statement tomorrow, holding a conference to control what gets published. Yeah, don't talk about free speech, y'all misuse that shit. But Ivanna, it’s been corrupted for weeks. Completely unusable. Glitch city.”
Her chest tightened. “So nothing? No faces, no timestamps, no movement?”
“Nothing. But don’t go thinking the hotel’s hiding it. I don’t think they know a damn thing.”
Ivanna chewed her lip. “You don’t find that a little too convenient? Cameras out right before a girl turns up drained of blood?”
“Convenient or not, my hands are tied. Do not drag me deeper into this.” Marcos’ tone sharpened. “Ivanna, I mean it. Don’t call me again about this case.”
The line clicked dead before she could respond.
Ivanna lowered the phone slowly, the late evening breeze slipping under her coat like cold fingers. She pivoted on her heel, marched right back into the lobby, and fixed the manager with a steady look.
“I have one more question.”
The manager groaned audibly. “Lady, I told you—”
“Just take me to the room,” she cut in. “Please.”
“Absolutely not. Police access only.”
“The police have already been through it,” Ivanna countered. “They’ll have dusted for prints, bagged evidence, stripped the place if they needed to. I won’t touch a thing. I’ll be a ghost, in and out. You won’t even know I was there.”
The receptionist shifted uncomfortably. The manager scrubbed at his forehead like her persistence gave him a migraine. “You journalists think you run the world,” he muttered.
“Not the world,” Ivanna said, softer now. “Just the stories that deserve to be told. Please. Your staffer deserves someone to actually care.”
He let out a long breath, then jerked his chin toward the stairs. “Five minutes.”
Her heart kicked against her ribs as she followed him up the creaking stairwell. The carpet was threadbare, patterned with stains that looked older than she was. The hallway smelled of disinfectant.
The manager stopped at a door at the far end. 312. He pulled out a key, unlocking it with a reluctant clack.
“Five minutes,” he repeated, his voice grave.
Ivanna slipped inside. The room was spotless, unnervingly so. The bed was tucked tightly, carpet vacuumed in neat lines... It was too clean.
She moved carefully, scanning surfaces, eyes snagging on the dresser across from the bed. Something gleamed faintly in the corner of the top drawer, half-jutting as if forgotten. She pulled it open an inch more and froze.
There was a key holder that has black leather, worn around the edges but no keys attached.
She could swear she has seen it before but she wasn't exactly sure where. Her brows furrowed when she realized it has initials sewn onto it.
E.L.M
Yeah, those didn't ring any bell in her head but still she could have sworn she saw it somewhere before.
She closed the drawer quietly, slipping the key holder into her coat pocket. Her heart thundered as if she’d just committed theft in broad daylight.
“Find what you’re looking for?” the manager’s voice called from the doorway.