Page 119 of Mistletoe and Malice
“On my way.”
His gut tightened as he exited the beautifully dressed ballroom. Would this be the first hitch in an otherwise flawless op? Whatever thissituationwas, he prayed they could resolve it without anybody in the ballroom being the wiser.
“What’s up?”
Dillon, one of two agents monitoring live-stream footage from various vantage points around the ballroom, ran his finger across his neck. Colton muted his mic.
“Just got off the phone with Houston PD. Med called them about fifteen minutes ago. A girl was brought in. Beaten. Found by a friend who happened to stop by. Barely coherent. Kept repeating something about the Hudson Ball and mentioned a couple of names. One was Terence. The other sounded like Warren. Decided they should call it in since she appeared agitated, like she was trying to get a warning out.”
Colton’s blood ran cold. “Who is she?”
“One of the members of the theater where Everett volunteers. Units are at the hospital and at her place now. Looks like we found where he’s been holing up.”
“Not the woman we were sitting on?”
“No. Someone new to the group. Could be the theater manager didn’t know they’d hooked up.”
Fifteen minutes. And no telling how long she’d been lying there, beaten, and for what reason? Because she’d pushed the wrong button and set Everett off? Or did she know something she shouldn’t?
“Do we have a Terence on our hotel personnel list that we’ve vetted?”
Dillon brought up a screen with a list of names the hotel had provided of all male staff assigned to the event. “Terence Drummond. Waitstaff. Contracted through an agency. This is his first event here at The Cheshire Hotel.”
“Picture.”
Dillon hit more keys. A photo popped up. A man, long face, blue eyes, brown hair, six foot one, slight build. Same description could be made for Warren Everett.
“What do we know about this guy?”
“Waiter at the Derby Ranch Steakhouse. Works contract catering jobs on the side. Before that, he was with …” Dillon scrolled down the page. “The Whitmore. Kitchen staff. Three years.”
Colton’s inner radar sounded off. “Same time as Everett, so we can assume they knew each other. Can we locate him in the building?”
Dillon brought up the footage from the kitchen and bar, and they studied the monitors for any sign of him. Nothing. If Everett had shown up in place of Drummond, doubtful anybody on the wait crew would be the wiser, since this was Drummond’s first gig at this location.
“Get units to his home address now. Could be he either allowed Everett to work in his place, or we have another victim.”
“On it.”
Colton activated his transmitter on his way back to the ballroom. “Listen up, everybody. We got a viable tip Everett could be impersonating somebody we vetted on the waitstaff. Name Terence Drummond. Lanky build, brown hair worn to the collar are distinctive markers.”
Back in the ballroom, he spotted Riley dancing in a circle and laughing with her three best friends. “Cooper, get Riley off the dance floor. I need her with you.”
Nowell put his hand to his ear. “Copy that.”
“Paxton, I need you with Nowell and Riley right now.”
“On it.”
“Jamison, have the SUV running at the emergency exit.”
“Already headed that way.”
“Good work. Anderson and Wiley, check the kitchen and bar for anybody matching the description.”
The two agents responded in the affirmative as Colton moved quickly through the room. As Nowell escorted Riley to the side where Trevor met them, Colton spotted John walking up to Avery still on the dance floor. He said something to her, she nodded and grabbed Frances and Barbara by the arms, pulling them off the floor to a far corner. John then joined two of his men heading toward the bar. Several others in the room, bothPetersen personnel and cops in plain clothes, were suddenly in motion.
“Blankenship.”
