A Necessary Evil

CHAPTER 83

The Embassy Suites

Omaha, Nebraska

Keller knew Timmy Hamilton didn't recognize him at all. Four years of living in the rain forest had given him a weathered disguise he didn't even expect.

Keller had made the phone call to their room all the while watching Nick Morrelli fill his arms with junk from the gift shop. When Timmy got to the lobby he greeted the boy, telling him that he was working with the Omaha Police Department. It wasn't a lie. After all, he was working with the department. However, the boy seemed to misunderstand, perhaps thinking he was a plainclothes detective, especially after Keller showed him Detective Kasab's badge. The young detective really should have been more careful earlier when he left his jacket over a chair while he used the restroom in Keller's hotel room.

Besides, it was better for Timmy if he didn't know the truth. Even though the boy had betrayed him, he would make this as painless as possible. It had become a necessity, unfortunately, to take care of such things in order to survive. But some missions were worth the collateral damage that occurred along the way.

He told Timmy that he had already talked to his uncle, Nick Morrelli, in the gift shop, and that they agreed to meet in a suite the police department had reserved. That his uncle had gone back up to their room to get Timmy and his friend.

"But he had the desk clerk already call me to come down and help him carry stuff," Timmy said, hanging back, looking a bit suspicious but clearly not wanting to upset a police detective.

Keller shrugged as if he didn't know anything about it. "That must have been before I talked to him." Then to pretend that he was just as confused, he added, "I wondered why you came down to the lobby alone."

"Couldn't we just wait for my uncle down here?" Timmy asked.

"We agreed to meet hi the suite. I don't think he's coming back down here." Again, for good measure, he added, "Do you want to call him?"

Just the offer seemed to satisfy the boy, and he shook his head.

He led him back to his suite. At one point he even let the boy go first, past a housekeeping cart, and he slipped Detective Kasab's badge between the piles of towels. All the while he kept reassuring the boy that they would talk about everything once his uncle and friend arrived.

At the door to the suite when Timmy seemed to hesitate, Keller told him that he could wait in the hall if he wanted. But as he opened the door he added that they needed to be careful because earlier he had seen someone following them. It was enough to draw Timmy into the room and looking over his shoulder instead of looking or expecting any danger from inside. It was as if Timmy had finally accepted him as an ally.

All he had ever tried to do was help Timmy. All of the boys, he had only wanted to help them, save them from the abuse he believed they were suffering at home. At the time, Timmy had claimed he bruised easily, but wasn't that what they all said to cover up for their parents? Timmy looked okay now, a bit scrawny but healthy. Although from his own experience he knew the mental scars never healed. Perhaps that was true for Timmy, too.

"You can sit down if you want," he told Timmy.

"No, that's okay. I'll wait until Uncle Nick and Gibson get here."

The boy remained standing, watching the door and fidgeting, shifting from one foot to the other. Keller hated fidgeting.

That's when the phone rang as if on perfect cue.

"Hello?" he said, making it sound like he wasn't expecting the call.

"Good evening, Mr. Keller. This is the front desk calling just as you requested."

"Yes, Timmy's here with me. Where did you say you were?" He glanced at Timmy still standing by the door. He was far enough away he would never hear the desk clerk on the other end.

"The front desk, sir," the caller repeated.

"How long will that take?"

"Excuse me? How long will what take?"

Keller ignored the poor clerk's confusion. "Well, okay. We'll wait here for you."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I have no idea what _ "

He hung up on him in midsentence, finished and pleased with his side of the conversation. Then to Timmy he said, "They're going to be a few minutes late. Something your uncle has to take care of."

He needed to come up with something, anything that would relax the boy, that would stop his goddamn fidgeting. "In the meantime, why don't you help yourself to the minibar."

That got his attention. "Really? Are you sure?"

"Oh yeah, go ahead. Grab me a Coke, too."

That was it. Evidently sharing his minibar was like opening a whole new avenue of trust. Suddenly Timmy was grinning and down on his knees, opening the fridge and evaluating the treasure inside.

Yes, this would be easy. Almost too easy.