Chapter 8 - The Phone in the Car
The police moved the remaining wedding guests out of the ballroom within twenty minutes.
Nobody said the word murder.
Nobody had to.
Elena sat in a private bridal suite with her veil removed and her wedding dress pooled around the chair like something that belonged to another woman.
A detective named Rosa Alvarez stood across from her.
“Mr. Keene is not confirmed injured,” Alvarez said. “We found a small amount of blood on the phone. We are testing it.”
Nathan paced near the window.
“My mother is not violent.”
Claire laughed from the corner. “You still believe that?”
Nathan turned. “I’m saying she wouldn’t hurt Walter.”
“Five years ago, she destroyed my life because I wouldn’t sign a confidentiality agreement.”
“That is not the same as hurting someone.”
Elena looked at him. “Stop defending her.”
He did.
The detective placed an evidence photo on the table. It showed Walter’s phone on the passenger-side floor of a black sedan.
Beside it was a torn piece of white fabric.
Elena leaned closer.
Lace.
Wedding lace.
Her stomach dropped.
Alvarez watched her face. “Is that from your dress?”
Elena checked the skirt. One section near the back hem was torn.
“I don’t know when that happened.”
Nathan stared at her. “You think Elena was in the car?”
“I think someone wants us to consider that possibility,” Alvarez said.
Elena’s phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A photo appeared on the screen.
Walter was alive.
He sat in what looked like a storage room, one side of his forehead cut, his hands tied loosely in front of him. Beside him was Elena’s stolen laptop.
Below the photo was a message.
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT HIM BACK.
Nathan reached for the phone.
“Don’t.”
Elena stepped away.
The detective said, “Give me the device.”
Another message arrived.
NO POLICE. NO NATHAN.
Then a third.
BRING CLAIRE’S FLASH DRIVE.
Claire stood slowly.
“They know I gave it to you.”
Alvarez took the phone carefully. “Nobody goes anywhere.”
Elena looked at the timestamp embedded in the photo.
She recognized the room.
It was not some random storage space.
May you like
It was the wine cellar beneath Victoria Hale’s estate.
And in the corner of the image, barely visible behind Walter’s chair, stood a man wearing Marcus Dean’s distinctive silver watch.
