Part 9
“What?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
“Did you touch the base?”
“No.”
“Did you see Daniel Cho near Theo?”
A pause.
“Daniel was near everyone.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I saw him by the pedestal before the doors opened.”
“Doing what?”
“Leaning down.”
“Why didn’t you tell the police?”
“My father told me Daniel had dropped a cuff link.”
Theo’s hand closed around Mara’s sleeve.
Adrian continued. “I thought the boy had taken whatever Peter was looking for.”
“So you accused him.”
“I saw him on the floor.”
“You saw a frightened child and chose the explanation that protected your family.”
“You held a badge beside his face.”
The hit was accurate enough that Mara did not dismiss it.
“Yes,” she said.
Adrian seemed unprepared for agreement.
“I was wrong to bring him,” she continued. “You were wrong to degrade him. My mistake does not clean yours.”
He leaned closer to the door.
“My father is going to say I ordered the replica displayed. The event staff will agree. Peter already has.”
“Why tell me?”
“Because you recorded what I said before.”
“That does not answer the question.”
His voice dropped. “Because when I looked at those people, none of them looked surprised.”
The six guests.
All silent.
All cautious.
“They knew something?” Mara asked.
“I don’t know. But they knew my father would let me stand there alone.”
Mara looked through the peephole again. Adrian’s face was turned slightly away. His jaw worked as though he were chewing something bitter.
“Speak to Inspector Keller,” she said.
“I need protection first.”
“You need a lawyer who represents you.”
“I need assurance I won’t be arrested.”
“You will not get that from me.”
“Then why would I help?”
“Because your father is preparing to sacrifice you, and the truth may be the only asset he cannot transfer out of your name.”
Adrian’s eyes lifted toward the peephole, almost finding hers.
“You enjoy this.”
“No.”
“You’re calm.”
“That is not the same thing.”
He stepped back.
“I did not loosen the pedestal.”
“I heard you.”
“I didn’t know the box was from Sloan.”
“I heard that too.”
“And I would not hurt a child.”
Theo flinched.
Mara’s hand found his shoulder.
“You already did,” she said.
Adrian left.
Theo waited until the elevator doors closed.
“He sounded scared.”
“He is.”
“Do you feel bad for him?”
“A little.”
“Even after what he said?”
“Yes.”
Theo frowned, as if she had broken a rule.
“Feeling bad for someone does not require pretending they are harmless.”
He thought about this while she lifted their suitcase.
“I feel bad for him,” he said. “But not a lot.”
“That is allowed.”
They reached the private entrance at one fifteen. Sabine stood beside a dark SUV while Marc Duret loaded their bags. The court was empty except for snow piled against the stone walls.
Mara checked Marc’s identification and vehicle registration.
Theo climbed into the back seat.
Before Mara followed, a woman called her name from the service doorway.
Leila Grant, one of the six gala guests, crossed the court in a muted green gown beneath a hotel coat that was too large for her. She was thirty or thirty-one, with close-cropped dark hair and a champagne-colored evening bag still hanging from one wrist.
Sabine moved to intercept her.
Leila raised both hands.
“I’m the one who posted the video.”
Mara stopped.
Theo lowered the window two inches.
“Put it up,” Mara told him.
He obeyed.
Leila came no closer. “Mrs. Sloan recorded it. She gave me her phone because Daniel tried to take it.”
“Why did you post a child’s face?”
“I blurred him.”
“You blurred the first eight seconds. His face is visible when the camera shifts.”
Leila’s expression changed. “No. I watched the export.”
“Then watch it again.”
“I used an editing app. The tracking box stayed on him.”
“It failed.”
For a moment Leila looked less like a journalist and more like someone who had stepped onto a stair that was not there.
“I’m sorry.”
“Take it down.”
“It’s copied everywhere.”
“Take yours down.”
“If I remove it, the hotel will say it was fabricated.”
“My nephew is not evidence you own.”
Leila swallowed. “I thought the remark needed to be seen.”
“By whom?”
“Everyone.”
“That answer should frighten you.”
Sabine glanced toward the road.
Leila pulled a phone from her coat pocket. “I’m deleting the original post now.”
Mara watched her do it.
“It won’t erase the copies,” Leila said.
“No.”
“I can issue a correction and ask outlets to obscure him.”
“Do that.”
Leila typed quickly. Her hands trembled enough that she made two mistakes.
“You were one of the six,” Mara said.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you speak?”
Leila stopped typing.
“I was waiting for the right moment.”
“There was a child on the floor.”
“I know.”
“You had the moment.”
“I know.”
She finished the correction.
Sabine said, “Ms. Bell, the road is clear now, but another storm is expected.”
Mara opened the SUV door.
Leila said, “Daniel Cho was wearing gloves before the doors opened.”
Mara turned.
“Latex?”
“Clear nitrile. He removed them near the bar and put them in his pocket.”
“Why?”
“He said the flowers irritated his skin.”
“Did you see him touch the music box?”
“No. I saw him leave the blue salon. He smelled like adhesive.”
“Theo noticed that too.”
Leila looked toward the darkened window where the boy sat.
“I have photographs from the private preview,” she said. “I was writing a society feature. The box is visible in the background at five fifty. The pedestal base was intact then.”
“Give them to Jonas.”
“I did. He asked how I knew to photograph it.”
“How did you?”
“I didn’t. I was photographing Adrian.”
Her honesty surprised Mara.
“For the article?”
“For myself.”
“You were involved with him.”
Leila’s face closed. “Briefly.”
“Did he know you were attending?”
“Yes.”
“Did his family?”
May you like
“No.”
A relationship concealed from the family. Photographs taken casually. A leaked video partly motivated by anger, partly by conscience, and partly by the reflex of a reporter who saw a powerful man expose himself.
