Chapter 14 - The Gala That Never Ended
The Harrington Grand was still full when they returned that evening.
The charity gala had been suspended but not evacuated completely because hotel management had told guests there was a security issue on several upper floors.
Reporters crowded the sidewalk.
Police lights washed the snow blue and red.
Richard entered through the kitchen again.
This time no one tried to stop him.
A federal investigator named Special Agent Lena Ortiz met them beside the freight elevators.
Helen had sent Margaret's duplicate packet from a secure archive during the drive back.
Ortiz had read enough to move quickly.
"Mr. Harrington, from this point forward you follow instructions."
Richard nodded.
Emily looked at him in surprise.
"That was fast."
"I'm evolving under pressure."
Little Emily was not with them.
Claire had taken her to a guarded hospital suite with Daniel and Jonathan, whose wound had reopened during the drive.
Richard hated being separated from the child, but he hated the idea of her near Evan more.
Ortiz showed them the service-level map.
"Malcolm Voss used his security code at 5:42 p.m. No exit after that. Evan Voss's transport vehicle was hit two blocks from the county line. One officer is dead, one wounded. We believe Evan returned here because he thinks his father has something he needs."
Emily touched the cassette tape in her coat pocket.
"What?"
Ortiz looked at Richard.
"We were hoping you could tell us."
Richard thought of Malcolm's apology.
I'm sorry about Margaret.
Not I didn't know.
Not I couldn't stop him.
Sorry.
"A confession," Richard said.
They descended to the ballroom service level with two agents.
The corridor behind the kitchens was deserted.
At the far end, a banquet door stood open.
Inside, the ballroom looked abandoned mid-breath.
Half-empty wineglasses remained on tables.
Candles had burned low.
A string quartet's instruments sat unattended near the stage.
Snow pressed against the high windows.
Richard's name still glowed on a projection screen above the podium.
HARRINGTON FOUNDATION - 50 YEARS OF TRUST.
Emily looked at it.
"That aged well."
Richard almost smiled.
A sound came from beneath the stage.
Three slow knocks.
Ortiz raised her weapon.
They moved closer.
A service hatch opened.
Malcolm crawled out.
His tuxedo was torn. Blood darkened one side of his face.
Richard knelt beside him.
"Where's Evan?"
Malcolm laughed weakly.
"Always the first question. Never hello."
"Hello, Malcolm. Where is your homicidal son?"
"Better."
Emily stared at him.
"Did you know Evan poisoned my mother?"
Malcolm closed his eyes.
"Not until after the funeral."
"Did you protect him?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Malcolm looked toward Richard.
"Because fathers are capable of making evil sound like duty."
Richard flinched.
Malcolm saw it.
"We taught each other that."
Ortiz crouched.
"Mr. Voss, where is Evan?"
"Control room. He wants the old camera archive."
"Why?"
"Because there's a recording from Margaret's last visit to the hotel."
Emily stiffened.
"She came here before she died?"
"She confronted him."
"Evan?"
Malcolm nodded.
"And me."
Richard's voice became cold.
"You watched him poison her."
"No. I watched her accuse him. I didn't believe her."
Emily's laugh was sharp.
"Another family tradition."
Malcolm's face collapsed.
"Yes."
The ballroom lights went out.
The projection screen went black.
A second later, the emergency system came alive.
Every screen in the ballroom displayed live security footage.
Little Emily sat in a hospital bed.
Claire was beside her.
Daniel was asleep in a chair.
Jonathan stood near the door.
Emily's blood turned cold.
"That's the hospital."
Ortiz swore.
A voice filled the ballroom speakers.
Evan.
"Hello, family."
Richard looked up at the nearest camera.
"What do you want?"
"The silver drive and Margaret's cassette."
Emily gripped her pocket.
Evan continued.
"You have ten minutes. After that, the man standing outside Room 814 receives a text from me."
Ortiz moved through the abandoned ballroom with the concentration of someone refusing to be impressed by expensive surroundings.
She paused beside a table where a donor's name card still stood beside an unfinished dessert.
"These people were evacuated before the lower level was sealed?"
"Most," Malcolm said. "Staff too."
"Most is a bad word."
Richard looked toward the service hall.
"How many kitchen workers?"
Malcolm closed his eyes, calculating.
"Twelve on the final shift. Maybe fourteen."
Ortiz spoke into her radio, ordering a floor-by-floor count.
Emily watched Richard.
"You were going to ask about the donors first."
He looked at her.
"I was."
"But you didn't."
"I'm trying to learn before everyone gets exhausted waiting."
She nodded once.
A federal agent returned moments later.
"All kitchen and banquet staff accounted for. Two maintenance workers are missing, but their phones show off-site pings."
Richard exhaled.
The ballroom suddenly looked obscene to him: towers of flowers, crystal glasses, the giant screen celebrating trust while his family stood inside a building wired for surveillance and fear.
He walked to the nearest place setting and turned the silver name card face down.
"What are you doing?" Emily asked.
"Nothing useful."
"Then why?"
Richard looked at the room.
"Because I don't want my name looking at me right now."
Emily did not laugh, but something in her face eased.
Malcolm wiped blood from his cheek with a folded napkin taken from one of the abandoned tables.
"Margaret came here alone," he said. "She wore a blue coat. She sat exactly where you are standing."
Emily looked down at the carpet.
"What did she say?"
"That she had copies. That if anything happened to her, the truth would outlive all of us."
Richard's voice hardened.
"And you let her leave with Evan?"
"I told myself she was being theatrical."
Emily's face went flat.
"Everyone called the women in this family dramatic right before discovering we were correct."
Malcolm had no answer.
He folded the napkin smaller and smaller until his fingers trembled.
On-screen, a man in hospital scrubs appeared at the end of the hallway.
He reached into his pocket.
Little Emily looked toward the door, unaware.
May you like
Evan's voice softened.
"Bring me the evidence, or this reunion loses its youngest guest."
