The Hostage: BookShots (Hotel Series) Read Online Free Page A

the lobby manager, who even in a time of crisis seemed to him to radiate a calming beauty. ‘Hey. I didn’t see you there.’
    ‘You were a million miles away. Stanley’s in good hands now, Jon,’ she continued, placing a reassuring hand on his back.
    Roscoe breathed out and nodded.
    ‘I know, but it should have been me, not Stanley, chasing down the killer.’ He looked across at the paramedics still tending to Stanley. ‘That should have been me.’
    ‘You did everything you could. You went straight upstairs without a second thought.’
    ‘I was wasting my time looking at video screens when I should have been out there,’ said Roscoe, pointing towards the hotel gardens. ‘But I’m not going to make that mistake again.’
    ‘What are you doing?’ asked Anna as the elevator doors opened.
    ‘I’m going up to the Presidential Suite. I need to have an idea of what I’m dealing with.’
    ‘Surely you should wait until the police get here?’
    ‘Too late – they already are.’ He gestured across the lobby and paused as he watched the Metropolitan Police enter the building. ‘And look at the corrupt fool they sent us.’

CHAPTER 7
    ROSCOE SEIZED ANNA by the hand, pulled her into the express elevator and hit the button for the thirty-eighth floor. As the doors closed in front of them, he could see Inspector Peter Savage looking directly across the lobby towards him. Roscoe’s expression of indifference was intended as a direct challenge to the inspector.
    ‘Jon, what about the police?’ asked Anna as the elevator raced its way vertically through the building.
    Roscoe grinned, readying himself for the chase.
    ‘I need to see the Presidential Suite before that crook.’
    ‘What crook?’
    ‘Inspector Peter Savage of the Metropolitan Police. I worked with him for most of my fifteen years on the force. We never really got on. Well, I say we never really got on – we hated each other. He was one of the main reasons I quit. He’s a bully and a cheat. He doesn’t care how he gets his convictions. He’ll intimidate witnesses to get them to say whatever he needs, and then if that doesn’t work he simply plants his own evidence.’
    ‘If he was so corrupt, wouldn’t someone find him out?’ said Anna.
    The elevator reached the thirty-eighth floor and Roscoe led them down the hallway.
    ‘I did. But the high-ups didn’t want to hear it. Peter Savage delivers convictions so he’s worth his weight in gold, whatever the collateral damage.’
    Roscoe used his access pass to open the main door to the Presidential Suite. Stepping inside, he felt warm spring air blow through the room from the open balcony door. How different to the horrors that had taken place only a few minutes before, he thought. But as the curtains billowed into the room, his heart dropped as he saw their pure-white fabric had been daubed in blood.
    Reluctantly, Anna followed Roscoe out onto the balcony, where she saw the remains of the rope the killer had used to hang his hostage from the balcony frame. Seeing the blood sprayed across the balcony floor, she knew she didn’t want to see any more and stepped back into the suite. Thinking of the horror Jackson Harlington had suffered, she walked through into the suite’s dining room, where she found beer bottles scattered across the table and a half-eaten supermarket sandwich sitting in the middle of a Royal Doulton china dinner plate.
    ‘Jon,’ she called as Roscoe made his way into the suite’s main bedroom. ‘In here.’
    ‘Looks like he made himself at home,’ said Roscoe, picking up the sandwich bag before dropping it back onto the table. ‘Must have been here a while before he struck.’
    ‘Shouldn’t we wait for the police now?’ asked Anna.
    ‘Yes, he should,’ said a voice at the suite door. Roscoe had been expecting it. ‘I’d have thought retired inspector Jon Roscoe would have known better than to tamper with the evidence at a crime scene – unless, of course, he has