Chapter 6 - Before Midnight

Mara watched the video twice. Jonah blinked rapidly, but his eyes kept returning to a point below the camera. He was trying to show them something. She froze the image and enlarged it. A narrow strip of blue tile ran along the wall behind him.

"The old pool changing rooms," Adrian said. "Under the east wing. They've been storage for years."

"So the loading dock is a distraction."

"Or a place to kill us after they have the box."

Mara spread the documents across a stainless-steel counter. She photographed each page while a cook watched in silence. Then she sent them to Nell Sato, a local reporter who had spent six years covering the Mercer House case.

Nell replied almost immediately: I'M AT THE GALA. DON'T TRUST MY PRESS BADGE. IT WAS ISSUED BY BELLAMY SECURITY.

"She can't publish what she can't verify," Mara said. "We need the originals and Jonah alive."

"We need a hospital for this," Adrian replied, pressing harder against his side.

"You called for help. When the police get here, tell them everything. I'm going downstairs."

"Absolutely not alone."

She looked at the blood on the towel. "You can barely stand."

"And you can't stop a bullet with a perfect roundhouse kick."

It was the first useful joke either had made all night. She didn't smile. Instead she pointed to the service schematic pasted beside the kitchen door. A freight elevator led to the old pool. So did a staff staircase. They could approach from opposite ends.

A cook named Mrs. Fenwick pulled a ring of keys from her apron. "I've worked here thirty-two years," she said. "I know a third way."

She led them through the laundry, past mountains of white tablecloths, and into a narrow tunnel where hot pipes ran above their heads. "My daughter lived in Mercer House," she told Mara. "She got out. Her neighbor didn't. I've wanted someone to ask these questions for a long time."

At a rusted grate, Mrs. Fenwick stopped. Through the slats they heard two men talking.

"Pike says the woman comes alone," one said.

"And after?"

"He said no witnesses."

Mrs. Fenwick squeezed Mara's arm. "I can open the storeroom from here."

May you like

My Mother Grabbed My Wife by the Hair Over Cold Soup—But What My Father...

My mother grabbed my wife by the hair over a bowl of cold soup. And the most shameful part? For one terrible second, I almost defe...

My Parents Kicked My 6-Year-Old Daughter and Me Out on Christmas—Then I...

My mother kicked my six-year-old daughter out of Christmas dinner, never realizing I was the only reason she still had a house to...

The Bride Threw His 80-Year-Old Mother’s Jacket on the Floor at Their We...

She threw his 80-year-old mother’s jacket on the floor… and smiled like she had just won.In front of two hundred wedding guests, t...

Then a third voice came through the grate, cool and unmistakable.

"Do it cleanly," Celeste Varrick said. "I don't want blood on my father's floors."