Chapter 8 - the locked bathroom
Eric recovered quickly.
He laughed as though Lena had made an embarrassing joke.
“You have had too much wine.”
“I haven’t touched my glass.”
Claire stepped forward.
“Lena, perhaps you should lie down.”
“I’m not unwell.”
Eric looked toward his partners.
“My wife has been under significant emotional stress.”
The sentence had been prepared long before that evening.
Lena saw it in the faces around the table. Some of the guests appeared surprised. Others looked uncomfortable but not confused.
Eric had already warned them that she might behave irrationally.
Lena unlocked her phone and played a short recording.
Eric’s voice filled the room.
Once the evaluation is complete, Hale will have difficulty blocking me.
The physician’s reply followed.
She must attend voluntarily, or we need an emergency event.
Claire reached for the phone.
Lena pulled it away.
Eric’s expression changed.
“Where did you get that?”
“Your office.”
“You illegally recorded a private conversation.”
“You were planning to have me declared incapable.”
“I was discussing treatment because you need help.”
One of Eric’s partners quietly moved toward the elevator.
Eric noticed.
“Nobody leaves.”
The words were calm, but the room understood them.
Lena looked toward the ceiling camera and repeated the emergency phrase Detective Quinn had given her.
“I think the city looks beautiful in the rain.”
Nothing happened.
Eric smiled.
“You expected someone?”
Lena’s stomach tightened.
The police should have responded within seconds.
Eric lifted a small electronic device from his pocket.
“The apartment’s outgoing signal has been disabled for the evening. Client confidentiality.”
Her old phone showed no service.
Claire collected the guests’ devices earlier, claiming Eric had planned a private business announcement. The only working line was the apartment’s secured network, which Eric controlled.
Lena had known the evening was dangerous.
She had not understood how completely Eric had prepared.
One of the guests protested.
“This is becoming inappropriate.”
Eric turned toward him.
“You signed the fund documents. Sit down.”
The man obeyed.
Lena moved slowly toward the hallway.
Eric followed.
“You wanted an audience,” he said quietly. “Now you have one.”
“I want to leave.”
“You are not leaving while you’re behaving like this.”
He reached for her arm.
Lena stepped back.
“Do not touch me.”
The guests watched.
For a moment, Eric seemed to remember them.
He lowered his hand.
“Go to the bedroom,” he said. “We’ll discuss this privately.”
“No.”
“Lena.”
“No.”
She moved toward the private elevator, but Claire blocked the control panel.
Lena turned toward the kitchen.
Eric followed her again.
The apartment contained two entrances: the private elevator and a service door beyond the kitchen. The service door required an electronic key.
Lena reached it first.
The light flashed red.
Eric had disabled the lock.
“You planned this,” she said.
“I planned to stop you from destroying our lives.”
“You destroyed them before we met.”
The restraint left his face.
He seized her wrist.
Lena twisted away. Pain flashed through her already injured arm. She stumbled but remained standing.
Several guests looked down.
No one intervened.
That frightened her almost as much as Eric.
Then one woman near the table quietly pushed Lena’s purse across the marble floor with her foot.
The purse stopped near the hallway.
Lena recognized her as the wife of one of Eric’s clients.
Their eyes met.
Run.
Lena pulled free and grabbed the purse.
Eric reached for her, but she slipped through the bathroom doorway and slammed it shut. The damaged frame cracked when the lock engaged.
She had complained about that door for months.
Eric had repeatedly promised to repair it.
Now the weakness worked against her.
The bathroom had no telephone. Her old phone still showed no service.
Eric spoke through the door.
“Open it.”
Lena searched the purse.
Her keys, wallet and cosmetics spilled across the floor.
The black business card was not in its usual pocket.
For one terrifying second, she thought Eric had taken it.
Then her fingers found a tear in the lining.
The card had slipped underneath the fabric, hidden even during Eric’s searches.
Lena pulled it free.
Her primary phone remained connected to the apartment’s wireless network. Calls would route through Eric’s system.
She remembered the open interior doorway beside the bathtub. It overlooked the bedroom’s window wall, where the signal blocker’s effect might be weaker.
Lena moved toward the glass.
One bar appeared.
Eric struck the bathroom door.
The wood cracked.
Lena entered Vincent’s number.
He answered before the second ring finished.
“Can you… please save me?”
The pressure against the door stopped.
Vincent recognized her breathing.
“Lena. Who is there?”
“My husband. He hurt me.”
“Where are you?”
She gave him the address.
Outside the bathroom, Eric tried the handle again.
Vincent’s voice became colder.
“Stay away from the door.”
“How long?”
“Stay alive for eight minutes.”
Eric heard enough through the cracked wood to understand whom she had called.
His anger changed into panic.
“Tell him not to come.”
Lena remained silent.
“You don’t understand what you’ve done,” Eric said. “That man will kill me.”
Lena pressed the phone against her ear.
“Then you should be grateful I told him not to.”
Eric stepped away from the door.
For several seconds, there was no sound.
Vincent spoke through the phone.
“What can you see?”
“The bathtub. The cabinets. The bedroom beyond the doorway.”
“Can you reach the apartment entrance?”
“No.”
“Can you lock the dressing-room door?”
“There isn’t one.”
“Then stay low and keep talking.”
Lena heard Eric moving through the bedroom.
A drawer opened.
She remembered the locked compartment beneath his office desk.
“What is he doing?” Vincent asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Listen to me. Detective Quinn lost contact with you eight minutes ago. She is already inside the building. The private elevator has been disabled, but they are using the service stairs.”
“We’re on forty-two.”
“They started on forty.”
Lena almost laughed from relief.
Vincent continued.
“I am with them.”
“You promised not to enter unless I called.”
“You called.”
Eric returned to the door.
His voice sounded different.
“Lena, I need you to open this.”
“No.”
“The police are coming. You need to tell them this was a misunderstanding.”
“No.”
“If you don’t, every person in that dining room will say you threatened us.”
Lena looked at the recording phone in her hand.
It was still running.
“Keep talking,” she said.
Eric became silent.
He had realized his mistake.
The door shook again.
The lock began separating from the frame.
Then the private elevator bell sounded in the apartment.
Eric stepped away.
May you like
Voices entered the living room.
The rescue had begun.
