Chương 4
“It may not be a crime scene.”
“Then it’s a very expensive canceled party with suspicious paperwork.”
Someone knocked.
Ben opened the door only after the venue manager identified himself. The manager, a narrow man named Paul Danner, stepped inside with both hands visible, as if he had already been warned about the mood.
“Mr. Cole, your father is asking us to release the security recordings to his security team.”
“No.”
“He says Cole Harbor paid for the event.”
“I paid for the event.”
Paul looked uncomfortable. “The deposit came from a corporate account.”
Ethan stared at him.
Claire had told him her mother was covering the flowers and Malcolm had insisted on the venue. Ethan had assumed the company payment was one of his father’s usual gestures, generosity with a string hidden beneath it.
“Preserve everything,” Ethan said. “Release nothing until my attorney speaks with you.”
Paul nodded. “There’s another issue. Mrs. Whitmore says personal property has been taken from the bridal suite.”
“What property?”
“She won’t specify.”
“Lock the room.”
“She is inside it.”
Ethan rubbed his forehead.
Mara said, “The phone may have a second memory card.”
They looked at her.
“When I found it, something small fell into the flowers. I thought it was part of the tape. I didn’t pick it up.”
Ethan stood.
Ben raised a hand. “We’re not going back without Lena.”
“What if someone finds it?”
“Then we ask the venue to secure the bouquet.”
Paul swallowed. “The bouquet is gone.”
No one spoke.
“When?” Ethan asked.
“One of the florist’s staff removed it after the ceremony was canceled.”
“Which staff member?”
“We’re checking.”
The locked conference room suddenly felt less secure than it had a minute earlier.
Ben called Lena again.
Ethan went to the narrow window overlooking the parking court. Guests were leaving beneath warm exterior lights. Women held their dresses above the pavement. Men loosened bow ties. Several people stood near the valet stand looking down at their phones.
The story was already moving beyond the building.
He took out his own phone.
Thirty-four missed calls. His sister Nora. Two board members. The company’s communications director. Numbers he did not recognize. A message from Claire sat at the top.
Please don’t listen without me.
He stared at it until another message appeared.
Malcolm will make it sound like I planned all of this alone.
Ethan turned the screen off.
Lena Ortiz arrived in a navy suit and running shoes, carrying a legal pad, two charging packs, and the expression of someone who had been promised a simple emergency and had not believed it.
She was forty, compact, and direct without making a performance of it. She shook Ethan’s hand once, introduced herself to Mara, and told Ben to stop writing witness notes on a device that automatically synchronized to three places.
Ben looked offended. “It’s encrypted.”
“So is every embarrassing breach until it isn’t.”
She put her phone in a signal-blocking pouch, then handed Ethan a second pouch for the burner.
“Before that goes in,” she said, “tell me who touched it.”
Mara described finding it. Ethan described taking it. Lena asked whether Malcolm, Claire, Elaine, Conrad, the driver, or anyone else had handled it after discovery.
“No,” Ethan said.
“Did you unlock it?”
“It was already unlocked.”
“Did you select recordings?”
“The second played automatically after the first.”
“Did you see any passcode prompt?”
“No.”
“Did you alter, delete, or forward anything?”
“No.”
Lena looked at Mara. “Did you?”
“No.”
“Good. Into the pouch.”
Ethan placed the phone inside. The waveform disappeared behind the dark lining.
Lena turned to Paul. “You will preserve all security footage, access logs, employee schedules, vendor records, and internal messages relating to tonight. You will not give Mr. Malcolm Cole or his representatives anything without written authorization from your counsel. Please ask the florist to identify every employee who handled the bouquet and preserve any vehicle footage from the loading area.”
Paul nodded quickly and left.
Lena opened the portfolio but did not remove the papers.
“Who prepared these?”
“Conrad Weiss,” Ethan said.
“Who represents?”
“My father, the company, sometimes me. Apparently no one when nouns become inconvenient.”
Lena read the first page.
Her expression did not change, but she took longer with the third paragraph.
“Did you sign earlier versions of this trust amendment?”
“I signed estate-planning documents six weeks ago.”
“With independent counsel?”
“Conrad said the changes were administrative.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No.”
She continued reading. “The marriage license is not what transfers control. This set of documents creates several conditions, one of which is a legally valid marriage. There are separate authorizations in here. Some have signature tabs.”
“I haven’t signed them.”
“Not these copies.”
Ethan looked up. “What does that mean?”
“It means I don’t know what you signed six weeks ago.”
He felt the answer in his stomach before she finished.
Lena closed the portfolio.
“We need copies of every document, the firm’s engagement letters, your trust records, and the trust’s current asset schedule. Tonight, we need to keep you from signing anything, keep the phone intact, preserve the rooms, and get you away from your father.”
“That sounds dramatic.”
“It sounds like your father brought a lawyer and transfer documents to your wedding.”
Ben folded his arms. “I like her.”
A second knock came at the door.
Claire’s voice came through the wood.
“Ethan, please.”
No one moved.
Lena looked at him. “Do you want to speak with her?”
“Yes.”
“That answer was fast.”
“I’ve been waiting two years to know who I was sleeping beside.”
Mara’s face tightened.
Lena said, “You may speak with her. You will not promise confidentiality, destroy anything, return anything, sign anything, threaten her, or tell her where the phone is going.”
“Where is it going?”
“To a forensic examiner after we establish custody.”
Claire knocked again.
“I’m alone.”
Ben looked through the narrow pane beside the door. “She’s not.”
May you like
Elaine stood several feet behind her.
Lena opened the door partway.
