“I can arrange that. Do you want security to start on that, or sit on him while you do the room-to-room?”
“Sit on him. I don’t want them to talk to him, touch him. What’s that room over there?”
“It would be a maid’s room.”
“That’ll do.”
“Eve,” Roarke said as she straightened. “I don’t see any wounds on him. If that blood’s someone else’s-that much blood-they can’t possibly still be alive.”
“No, but we push the room-to-room first.”
Two
She needed to move fast. The amount of blood on her naked guy made it doubtful she’d find anyone alive-if she found anyone at all-so she couldn’t putz around. While she didn’t much like leaving her suspect with hotel security, even once she’d clapped on the restraints from her field kit, she couldn’t afford to wait for her uniformed backup, or her partner.
For lack of better, she set her suspect on the floor of the maid’s room, ran his prints.
“Jackson Pike.” She crouched down on his level, looked into the glazed brown eyes. “Jack?”
“What?”
“What happened, Jack?”
“I don’t…” He looked around the room, dazed and stoned. “I don’t…” Then he moaned in pain and clutched his head.
“Uniformed officers are on their way,” she said to the pair from security as she straightened. “I want him exactly where I’ve left him, and those people upstairs contained until I get back. Nobody comes in except NYPSD officials. Nobody goes out. Let’s move,” she said to Roarke.
“Guy’s a doctor,” she continued as they started out the door. “Thirty-three years old. Single.”
“He didn’t walk in off the street like that.”
“No. Your hotel. Find out if a Jackson Pike, or anyone with a variation of that name’s registered. How’s this floor set up?”
Roarke pulled out his ’link as he gestured. “Four triplexes, one on each corner. One minute.”