Chapter 2 - When the Music Stopped

Somebody screamed. A chair hit the floor. The orchestra lost its rhythm in a mess of violin strings and one sharp note from a trumpet.

Mara moved toward the nearest wall instead of the nearest door. Panic followed crowds, and crowds were heading straight for the locked exits. In the darkness a hand caught her sleeve.

"I'm not security," the man whispered. "Take this."

A small brass key pressed into her palm. A paper tag scratched her skin: 14.

"Who are you?"

"Jonah Price. My mother was on the seventh floor."

Mara knew that name. Jonah's mother had died in the Mercer House fire eleven years ago. The official report said the alarm failed because her father, Daniel Keene, had shut off the pump. He had spent his remaining years in prison calling that statement a lie.

A beam from a phone swept across the wall. Jonah pulled away. "Don't trust the film they show you. Find the original."

He vanished between two banquet tables before Mara could ask what film he meant.

Emergency lights blinked on. The ballroom turned the color of old blood. Adrian appeared beside her, breathing hard.

"I told them not to lock the doors," he said.

"Who is them?"

"My father's security people. He says there's a threat."

"There is. It's the truth."

Across the room Celeste had caught sight of them. Two guards stood at her shoulders. She pointed directly at Mara.

"She's the one who attacked me!"

"I watched you kick her twice," an elderly woman replied. Her voice was dry and wonderfully clear. Celeste turned away as though she hadn't heard.

Adrian looked at the key. "Fourteen. What's that open?"

"If I knew, would I still be standing here?"

He almost smiled. Then his phone lit up with a message that drained the color from his face. Mara saw only the first line before he turned the screen inward: DON'T LET HER REACH THE NORTH GALLERY.

A guard approached with his hand behind his coat. Mara backed away, calculating the gap between two tables. Adrian stepped into his path.

"She's with me," he said.

"Mr. Bellamy, your father gave a direct order."

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A crash sounded behind the orchestra platform. The emergency lights shuddered. From somewhere beyond a service door came three hard knocks, a strangled cry, and silence.

Mara looked at the key again. On the back of the tag, in tiny ink, someone had written: HE DIDN'T TURN IT OFF.