“No. I’m discussing it with you.”
Daniel shook his head.
“This conversation is over.”
Vanessa stepped closer.
“You don’t get to decide when the conversation is over.”
Daniel paused.
Then he reached for the radio clipped to his belt.
Vanessa watched him.
“Who are you calling?”
“Management.”
“Good. Call somebody above you.”
“I’m also calling law enforcement.”
Her expression changed.
Only slightly.
But Daniel noticed.
“You’re calling the police on me?”
“I’m asking you one last time to leave voluntarily.”
“For what?”
“Ms. Whitmore.”
“For what?”
“Please collect your things.”
“I paid to be here.”
“Please leave the pool deck.”
“I’m a guest.”
“Please leave.”
“I have children here.”
“Please leave.”
“I have a room here.”
“Please leave.”
Vanessa laughed.
“You’re going to feel really stupid when someone above you gets here.”
Daniel lifted the radio.
“Security to front operations. Request sheriff response to the west pool.”
Vanessa stepped backward.
“You are unbelievable.”
Daniel did not answer.
She looked around.
People were watching now.
That made it worse.
Vanessa had always hated being embarrassed.
Anger she could handle.
Disagreement she could handle.
But humiliation was different.
Humiliation made her feel as though the room was shrinking around her.
And whenever Vanessa felt small, she became loud.
“You’re doing this because you don’t like me.”
Daniel looked at her.
“I don’t know you.”
“Oh, please.”
“I know your name because you gave it to the front desk. That’s it.”
“You have seen me here before.”
“I probably have.”
“Exactly.”
“That doesn’t mean I know you.”
“I’ve stayed here at least twenty times.”
Daniel said nothing.
Vanessa pointed toward him.
“You remember me.”
“I remember a lot of guests.”
“So now you admit it.”
Daniel exhaled.
“Ms. Whitmore, please.”
But Vanessa had found a new argument.
And to Vanessa, an argument was something that could always be won if you kept talking long enough.
Ten minutes later, two sheriff’s cruisers pulled beneath the hotel entrance.
Deputy Aaron Mercer stepped out of the first one.
He was thirty-eight years old and had spent enough years working tourist districts to know that expensive hotels produced the same problems as cheap motels, only with better luggage.
His partner, Deputy Jasmine Cole, parked behind him.