“Yes. I just need an ID and a major credit card.”

He slid over both. The clerk barely looked, ran the card, handed everything back to him.

It didn’t really matter. His ID was a good, high-quality fake, and his credit card was a business, one of the three shell corporations he’d set up when he first set out his plan of retribution.

“How many nights?”

“Four—but I might be here all week.”

“That’s fine. You can let us know the morning you’re supposed to check out.”

“Anything on the top floor?” he asked casually.

“Do you want to be close to the elevator?”

“Not really.”

The clerk typed, smiled. “All set.”

He signed and got the key. He went up to the room, looked around. It was on the top floor—the fourth floor—next to the stairwell. Perfect. Were the feds on this floor? It almost made him giddy to think about.

He took a book out of his backpack and put it on the nightstand. He pulled down the comforter and rolled around on the bed. Just in case anyone talked to the housekeeping staff. Washed his face and used three towels.

Then he left.

31

Spokane
9:45 p.m.

When Kara walked into the war room, Matt did a double take. He hadn’t expected to see her tonight.

“You didn’t have to come down. It’s getting late.”

Michael—who still looked like he walked out of a GQ magazine even though he wore sweatpants and a T-shirt—said, “Kara’s been here for hours.”

“Just talked to Maddox in the bar for a few,” she said. “He stopped by on his way home.”

“I didn’t see you when I came in.”

He should have noticed, though the bar was off to the side and not all seats were visible from the lobby.

“She may have found something.” Michael was at a desk reading a thick file.

“It just seemed...interesting,” Kara said. “GQ here told me what you learned from the teacher who worked with Marston—about an employee who lost his wife, then his job. And then I got the luck of the draw.”

She called Michael GQ. Why? Did Michael actually tell Kara that had been his nickname in the Navy? Or did she pick up on it intuitively?

Or was she flirting?

Don’t go there. She doesn’t owe you an explanation.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Quinn,” Michael said. “Both Ryder and I had already gone through all these files.”

She dismissed his comment. “I made a leap, and it paid off.”

“Details,” Matt said.

Michael said, “So there’s this lawsuit that was dismissed. It was filed, had depositions, then deemed without merit by the court. The plaintiff appealed. That appeal was also denied. Eighteen years ago, there was a horrific multicar pileup on Interstate 90. Nine vehicles were involved and the nineteen injured were split between Spokane General and Mercy which is farther out. Because Spokane has the trauma ward, the most serious injuries were brought there. Eleven people total at Spokane—three had been declared DOA at the scene.”