Chapter 6 - The Missing Room Attendant
I ran.
"Stop her!" Graham shouted.
My wet shoes skidded on the marble as I cut through the banquet entrance and into the service corridor. The music from the gala faded behind a heavy door. Here the hotel smelled of bleach, fried onions, and hot machinery.
Ana wasn't in the laundry room. Her cart stood abandoned near the elevators, one wheel spinning slowly. A paper cup lay crushed beside it.
"Ana!" I shouted.
A dishwasher pointed toward the stairs. "Two guys took her downstairs."
"Security?"
"One was wearing a security jacket. The other wasn't."
I called Luis. "Someone grabbed Ana Morales. Basement service stairs."
He swore. "Stay where you are."
But I already heard footsteps below me.
I pushed through the stairwell door. Someone had wrapped a chain around the ground-floor emergency bar, leaving barely enough room for it to crack open. My stomach tightened. This was one of the blocked exits from the anonymous letter.
"Ana?"
"Nora!" Her voice came from below. "Don't come down!"
A man climbed into view. He wore a security jacket, but his badge was turned backward. His face was unfamiliar.
"Wrong floor," he said.
"That woman needs help."
"Go back upstairs."
He reached for my arm. I jerked free, and my knee, bruised from the fountain, nearly gave way. A second man appeared behind him, gripping Ana by the elbow.
"She stole confidential documents," he said.
"Then call the police," I replied. "Not your friends."
A door slammed above us. Luis came down the stairs with Eli, the valet, right behind him.
"Release her," Luis ordered.
The first man hesitated. The second dropped Ana's arm and ran toward the loading dock. Eli started after him, but Luis stopped him.
"She's more important."
Ana was crying. Her wrist brace hung loose, and the skin beneath it was red.
She shoved a folded envelope into my hand. "Celia wasn't fired," she whispered. "They hurt her. And I found the report they buried."
May you like
I unfolded the top page.
Across its header was my mother's name.
