Chapter 13 - The Man Closest to Marcus
Marcus said nothing for almost a full minute.
Then he called Sean.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
“Maybe he was attacked,” I said.
Marcus shook his head. “Sean doesn't get surprised twice.”
The words carried more pain than anger.
We returned to the mansion at dawn.
Sean was gone. So was Lauren.
Security logs showed his badge opening the north service door at 3:41 a.m. A camera captured him helping Lauren into an SUV.
He wasn't unconscious.
He had helped her escape.
Marcus watched the footage once.
Then again.
On the third viewing, he paused it.
“Zoom her hand.”
Lauren's left hand was pressed against Sean's back.
A black object protruded beneath his jacket.
A gun.
“He was forced,” Nora said.
“Maybe,” Marcus replied.
I knew that word. Maybe was what people used when hope and evidence were fighting.
At 7:15, Sean called.
Marcus answered on speaker.
“Where are you?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Are you with her?”
“Yes.”
“Are you hurt?”
Pause.
“No.”
Marcus's jaw tightened.
Sean continued. “Listen carefully. Lauren wants safe passage. She says she'll give Vincent evidence tying Thomas to the shooting.”
“What does she want?” I asked.
“A private jet. No police. And Daniel's folder.”
Ruiz mouthed no.
I ignored her.
“Where?”
Sean hesitated.
Then: “Hale Tower. Executive floor. Nine tonight.”
The line cut.
Marcus replayed the call from the recorder.
“Something's wrong,” he said.
“What?”
“Sean used the phrase executive floor.”
“So?”
“He worked there three years. He never calls it that.”
Daniel looked up. “What does he call it?”
“Forty-one.”
Marcus rewound again.
After Sean said executive floor, there was a faint sound in the background.
Three quick chimes.
I knew those chimes.
Not Hale Tower.
May you like
My private elevator at the mansion.
Lauren had never left the property.
