Chapter 4 - Old Habits
I kept my eyes on Pike's hands. One held keys. The other rested near the radio clipped to his belt.
"Open the door," I said.
"She's being investigated for theft."
"By whom? The man locking her in a room without a phone?"
He moved closer. "Same Lena Ortiz. Always imagining you're the hero."
That name in his mouth dragged me back five years, to another hotel and another locked door. A housekeeper named Marlene had reported that guests couldn't open a stairwell during a smoke alarm. I had documented the latch, the false inspection report, and Pike's order to leave it alone.
Management fired Marlene. Pike told clients I was reckless. My work dried up a month after I refused to withdraw my report.
I still had the photographs. Nobody had wanted to see them.
"This is different," I said. "There's a woman behind that door."
"She's not injured. She needs time to calm down."
Iris struck the door with both fists. "That's a lie!"
Pike lunged for my phone. I stepped to the side. His shoulder struck the laundry trolley I'd parked near the doorway, and a stack of folded sheets slid across the floor.
I didn't try to fight him. I hit the red emergency-call button on the wall and shouted, "Locked room! Occupied!"
The alarm rang down the corridor. Pike swore, caught my sleeve, then let go when a laundry worker appeared at the stairs.
"What's going on?" the worker demanded.
"Call 911," I told him. "Tell them basement three."
Pike reached for the alarm panel. That gave me seconds. Beside the storage door was a red break-glass cabinet labeled EMERGENCY ACCESS KEY. I struck its cracked pane with the metal handle of a nearby fire extinguisher, reached inside, and took the key marked INVENTORY.
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Pike charged toward me.
I turned the key just as Iris shouted from inside, "Lena, don't let him take the blue folder!"
