Chapter 18 - The Man Behind My Father's Portrait
The firefighters cleared the east wing, and police secured the building floor by floor. Voss had not left through any street exit. The old hotel had passages that did not appear on the current plans, and for a sickening moment I understood where he might be.
"The portrait," I told Kim. "In the boardroom. Dad had a service alcove built behind that wall for the original ventilation shafts."
I handed her a scanned renovation plan Miles had kept on his tablet. Officers went first. I remained behind the security line, furious that restraint felt so much like helplessness.
A few minutes later the radio reported movement. Voss had been hiding in the narrow alcove behind my father's portrait with a bag of passports, cash, and a portable drive. He surrendered when officers blocked both exits.
Kim walked him into the lobby in handcuffs. He looked smaller without his tailor-made suit jacket and his loyal guards.
He spotted me near the front desk. "This place will collapse without me."
"It's been standing for a hundred years," I said. "You were only here for twenty."
He opened his mouth, then closed it. For the first time since I was a girl, he had nothing to sell me.
The police had arrested him on initial charges connected with witness intimidation, fraud, and destruction of records. More allegations would be investigated, and the death of my father was now the subject of a reopened criminal inquiry. Kim warned me that a video and a confession could start a case, not guarantee its final outcome.
"I understand. This time, the truth stays in the room."
Ruth called with news from court. The temporary order would remain in force while the judge examined the workers' trust and the challenged proxy. The sale had not closed. For tonight, at least, the Halcyon was still ours.
Nina brought me a paper cup of coffee. "My aunt used to say rich folks get fancy doors and working folks get keys to clean them."
"What would she say now?"
Nina smiled. "That somebody finally changed the locks."
Miles stood by the revolving door, giving me space. I started toward him when Kim called my name once more.
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"Vivian, there's a final recording on the recovered drive. It wasn't made eight years ago. It was made yesterday."
And the voice on it belonged to someone I thought had been dead for years.
