Back The Midnight Ride
Chapters (48)
  1. Cover
  2. Title
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Prologue
  6. Chapter One
  7. Chapter Two
  8. Chapter Three
  9. Chapter Four
  10. Chapter Five
  11. Chapter Six
  12. Chapter Seven
  13. Chapter Eight
  14. Chapter Nine
  15. Chapter Ten
  16. Chapter Eleven
  17. Chapter Twelve
  18. Chapter Thirteen
  19. Chapter Fourteen
  20. Chapter Fifteen
  21. Chapter Sixteen
  22. Chapter Seventeen
  23. Chapter Eighteen
  24. Chapter Nineteen
  25. Chapter Twenty
  26. Chapter Twenty-One
  27. Chapter Twenty-Two
  28. Chapter Twenty-Three
  29. Chapter Twenty-Four
  30. Chapter Twenty-Five
  31. Chapter Twenty-Six
  32. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  33. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  34. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  35. Chapter Thirty
  36. Chapter Thirty-One
  37. Chapter Thirty-Two
  38. Chapter Thirty-Three
  39. Chapter Thirty-Four
  40. Chapter Thirty-Five
  41. Chapter Thirty-Six
  42. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  43. Epilogue
  44. Acknowledgments
  45. Discover More
  46. About the Author
  47. Praise forThe Midnight Ride​
  48. Also by Ben Mezrich

Marsh gestured toward one of the CSI guys, who brought over a pair of black-and-white photographs, culled from the security footage. Both photographs were from cameras at the end of the hallway, above the elevators. The first was of a man of indeterminate age, with narrow features and light brown hair. The guy’s face had a weathered, tough look to it, and his build was tall and athletic, but there was a slight hunch to his shoulders. He had been caught in motion, and from the way he walked—confident but wary, arms loose enough that if he needed to move quickly he could—Zack could tell he was no stranger to the worlds both Zack and the detective knew well. If Zack had to guess, the guy was a criminal, a cop, or a convict.

The second photo was a bit more of a surprise.

“Is that a tennis skirt?” Zack asked. The detective only shrugged.

The girl was pretty, probably late twenties, with streaked hair and too much jewelry on her fingers and throat. Her face was round, her cheeks flushed, even in black and white. She had also been caught moving down the hallway, but her gait was much faster, and she was looking back over her shoulder. No doubt, she was running from something.

“Yeah,” Marsh said, noticing Zack’s look. “Hotel security had chased her into the elevator on the gaming floor. Apparently, she’s a card counter, made a bundle at a blackjack table and then booked it up to the sixth floor when they came after her to throw her out.”

“They checked her ID at the table?”

“They did, but turns out it was a fake. Ran the name and picture, and they don’t match anyone in the state. Hotel security looked back over the tape, say she’s real good, had them completely fooled for most of the night. And this wasn’t the first time she’d hit them. We’re working on a real ID, but it’s going to take time.”

“And the guy?”

“Him, we know. Facial recognition software generated a match right away. A dirtbag named Nick Patterson, nine years at Shirley on a string of bank jobs all over Middlesex and Suffolk counties. Did his time quiet, out on parole just two weeks ago.”