“Nor are you expected to pay attention to everything,” Decker said.

Him, on the other hand. He was a friggin’ lieutenant. Why hadn’t he taken down Chris’s license plate?

A rather big omission.

He thought about it for a moment, tried to put himself back in time.

He saw the car driving away. Then he remembered. The front and back plate were paper. “Hey, Eliza.”

“What?”

“The Lexus that Chris was driving. It had paper plates. So either he switched them out or the car was new and it was rented.”

WHILE ELIZA JOTTED down the local car rental services, Decker checked his cell. There was an urgent message from Marge. He called her back, and when she answered, he said, “Tell me you found Garth Hammerling.”

“Not yet,” Marge told him. “But I just heard from Aaron Otis. The two boys will be in town in about an hour.”

“Marge, I can barely hear you. There’s a lot of static on the line.”

“That’s because I’m in a parking lot…hold on, Pete.” She quickly ran up the stairs until she was on ground level. Then she walked outside. “Better?”

“Much. What parking lot?”

“St. Tim’s. We’re in the process of pulling the videocassettes from the security cameras in the parking lot. The head guard told us that the cassettes are erased and replaced once a month.”

“Tell me good news.”

“We just squeaked by, Rabbi. They were due to be changed in a few days. How clear the recording is, or if Adrianna or her car is even on the film, is another thing altogether.”

“How many cameras would pick up the area around Adrianna’s car?”

“One camera definitely works that area. We might get a peripheral view from another one. We’re also pulling the tapes from the entrances and exits to the parking lot to see what time Adrianna left the hospital. We’ll probably view them all in a little bit.”

“At the station house?”

“No, at the security station here at the hospital. The guards are watching over the cassettes like hawks.”

“Good for them. It’s just too bad they weren’t as diligent with Adrianna.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

THE WOMAN BEHIND the reception desk was named Grace. She was in her early forties with a pale face and soft, honeyed curls. She wore a black suit and a button-down aqua shirt with the name of the hotel emblazoned over the pocket. Her brown eyes turned sad when she spoke about the closure.

“I started working here when I was twenty-three, fresh out of hotel management. I was so green that on my first day my voice shook. I sounded like I was gargling.”

Eliza smiled. “I’m sure you did okay.”

“I was awful,” Grace said. “But management had patience back then.” She rolled her eyes. “They knew how to nurture a career.”

“How long have you been here?” Decker asked.

“Twenty-two years.”