Chương 7
“I don’t know,” he repeated. “The police found a place where she may have been. She wasn’t there. We have reasons to believe someone moved her.”
“Bad reasons?”
“Yes.”
“Did they hurt her?”
“I don’t know.”
Lily breathed unevenly.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what?”
He looked at the invoices bearing his signature.
“For not seeing what was happening here. For making a promise before I understood how hard it might be to keep.”
“You said not to lie.”
“I won’t tell you she’s safe when I don’t know that she is.”
Another silence.
Then Lily said, “Mom hates grape jelly.”
Alexander waited.
“She only buys it because I like it. Miss Elena made me toast, but it had strawberry.”
“All right.”
“I don’t want strawberry.”
“All right.”
“You don’t have to say all right.”
He sat down on the edge of the table.
“What should I say?”
“I don’t know.”
“That makes two of us.”
She gave a quiet breath that might have been almost a laugh.
“Will you call tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“What time?”
“Seven thirty.”
“In the morning?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll forget.”
“I won’t.”
She hung up without saying goodbye.
Alexander set an alarm for seven twenty-five, though he knew he would not sleep.
At two in the morning, police located Paul Dennison at his brother’s house in Yonkers. He surrendered after twenty minutes and insisted he had fled because he had been stealing prescription medication from damaged guest-property claims. He denied knowing anything about Claire’s disappearance.
His phone records showed six calls with Grant Morrow in the previous forty-eight hours.
Paul claimed they concerned staffing.
Grant remained missing.
Nolan’s attorney contacted police at three fifteen and stated that Nolan was traveling on private business, had no information about Claire Harper, and would arrange an interview after returning to New York.
His corporate phone had last connected to a tower near the Brighton Annex.
His personal phone was off.
At four forty, Northstar’s ownership trail led back to a trust controlled by Nolan’s former wife, who had died seven years earlier. The trust’s current beneficiary was Nolan’s son, Christopher Pierce.
Christopher had a gambling problem, two failed restaurants, and debts exceeding three million dollars.
The apparent corruption began to take shape, but corruption did not explain where Claire had gone.
At six thirty, Alexander changed into a clean shirt from the hotel boutique and walked through the basement alone. Police had finished their first search. Employees on the morning shift moved quietly around him.
In the laundry, sheets traveled through pressing machines with a rhythm like breath. In housekeeping, attendants collected carts and room assignments. Some watched him openly. Others looked away.
Rosa Alvarez stood near the uniform racks.
Alexander approached.
She did not greet him.
“May I speak with you?”
“Police already did.”
“I’m not police.”
“That’s the problem.”
He accepted the answer and started to leave.
Rosa said, “Claire said you wouldn’t know her name.”
He turned.
“She wasn’t angry when she said it,” Rosa continued. “That was worse. Angry means you still expect something.”
“Did she tell you what she found?”
“Enough to get us both in trouble.”
“I need more than that.”
“Now you need.”
“Yes.”
Rosa lifted a stack of folded aprons and placed them on a cart. “For years, they stole little pieces. Fifteen minutes here. An hour there. A broken vacuum we had to pay for. A room they said wasn’t clean, so no bonus. People complained, and suddenly their schedules changed.”
“Claire kept records?”
“She kept copies.”
“Where?”
Rosa looked at the camera above the laundry entrance.
“It’s disconnected,” Alexander said.
“Cameras aren’t the only eyes.”
He waited.
“Claire found names on payroll of people who never worked here,” Rosa said. “Their checks went to accounts she didn’t recognize. At first she thought managers used fake employees to hide overtime. Then she found injury claims.”
“What kind of claims?”
“People got hurt at work. Claims were filed under different names. Some checks went to Northstar.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Claire said it was bigger than hours.”
“Did she copy the files?”
“She tried.”
“Did she succeed?”
Rosa’s mouth tightened.
“Tuesday night, she gave me a flash drive. Told me to take it home. I refused.”
Alexander did not hide his reaction.
“I have children,” Rosa said. “My husband drives delivery. We’re behind on rent. Grant knew our address. Claire kept telling me if everyone stayed afraid, it would never stop. Easy to say when it’s your courage, yes? Harder when it’s my kids.”
“Where is the drive?”
“She took it back.”
“Did she say what she would do with it?”
“She said she would give it to the one person Nolan couldn’t fire.”
“Me.”
Rosa looked him over.
“She didn’t say you would help. She said you couldn’t pretend you weren’t told after she put it in your hand.”
Alexander glanced toward the clock.
Seven twelve.
“Did she mention B-17?”
Rosa shook her head.
“Did she mention another location? A person? A vehicle?”
“She asked me where Northstar kept equipment.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That I saw their trucks at the old airport hotel.”
“The Brighton?”
“I don’t know names. The closed one.”
“Anything else?”
Rosa rubbed both palms over her apron.
“She said the numbers weren’t the worst part.”
“What was?”
“Pictures.”
“What pictures?”
“Employees. Houses. Children coming out of school. Grant kept them in folders. She said it was how he made people quiet.”
Alexander felt the muscles in his jaw tighten.
“Why didn’t you tell police?”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
“Why are you telling me?”
Rosa’s gaze settled on him.
“Because if Claire dies, you will make a statement. You will say she was valued. You will say this does not reflect your company. I want you to know before you say it that it does.”
At seven thirty, Alexander called Lily.
She answered before the first ring finished.
“You remembered.”
“Yes.”
“Did you find her?”
“Not yet.”
May you like
Lily did not speak.
“I learned she was trying to show me proof,” he said. “She believed people at the hotel were stealing money and frightening workers.”
