Page 90 of No Headlines Please

Meanwhile, Walt was still talking about his unwritten beer policy. He finished by ranting, "And the whole thing's a giant pain in the ass, because half the time people treat me like I'm the front desk. And the other half think I'm the building's security guard."

Absently, I asked, "So that's not part of your job?"

"Are you kidding?" Walt said. "I get a deal on my rent, plus a few hundred bucks to keep the lobby tidy. I'm not paid enough to do more."

For one reckless second, I almost said, It sounds to me like you're already retired. But I bit it back just in time.

It wasn't Walt's fault I'd let down my guard. It was my own for being so stupid. And Walt had asked me about the photo, just not the one I'd thought. If I hadn't been acting so shifty myself, I would've confirmed what he meant.

My stomach twisted as I said, "The guy I dumped dirt on – did he tell you his full name? I mean…when he was asking about me?"

"He didn't have to," Walt said. "He gave me his card."

I perked up. "He did?"

"Yup. He said I should call the number if I happened to see you."

Unfair or not, I felt just a little betrayed. "And you would've? Seriously?"

"Not a chance," Walt said, looking insulted. "I already told you, I'm no spy."

"But—"

"But I still would've done my part."

I still didn't get it. "Your part?"

"Yeah. I would've told you that Cal was looking for you. No harm in that, right?"

My grip tightened on the back of the recliner.

Cal?

The same guy who'd introduced himself as Maddox?

This so wasn't good.

36

Operation Ford Focus

Maddox

On the phone, Cal was saying, "We found it in the Wexford parking garage."

He meant the Wexford Hotel. I knew the place. Not personally. But I'd driven by a time or two.

Or a thousand.

The hotel was in a decent area with semi-adequate security, which meant that Delaney's Ford Focus was reasonably safe.

More to the point, Delaney would be safe if she chose to retrieve it alone. Of course, she'd be safer with someone else, which was why I was planning to go with her – and pay the parking tab to move it closer.

This wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision. A few hours ago, while Delaney had left to change her clothes, I'd sent Cal a detailed text, asking him to locate her car and make sure it was fine.

So far, so good.

But then Cal added, "But there's a problem."