Chapter 5 - THE FIRST PERSON WHO CHOSE CHARLOTTE OVER THE HOTEL
Mara and Charlotte escaped through the kitchen.
The café manager shouted after them as they crossed between stainless steel counters and pushed through a delivery door into an alley.
Mara moved quickly.
“Left.”
Charlotte followed.
“Who is he?”
“Caleb Rusk.”
“Security?”
“Former military intelligence.”
Charlotte nearly stopped.
“My father hired military intelligence?”
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“Keep moving.”
They reached a parking garage.
Mara unlocked a gray sedan.
Charlotte got inside.
As Mara drove out, Charlotte looked through the rear window.
Caleb Rusk emerged from the alley.
He did not run after them.
He simply watched.
That frightened Charlotte more.
“Tell me everything,” she said.
Mara gripped the steering wheel.
“Your father hired Caleb four years ago as a private risk consultant. He was supposed to investigate theft.”
“What happened?”
“He started protecting the people he was investigating.”
“Why would my father keep him?”
“He didn’t realize it immediately.”
Charlotte’s phone buzzed again.
This time the caller ID showed Nathan Cole.
She answered.
“Where are you?”
Nathan sounded angry.
Charlotte leaned back.
“Interesting way to speak to the owner.”
“Where are you?”
“Why?”
“Because something happened at the hotel.”
Charlotte sat upright.
“What?”
“The security footage from this morning is gone.”
Mara glanced at her.
Charlotte felt her pulse accelerate.
“Gone how?”
“Deleted.”
“I gave explicit instructions.”
“I know.”
“Who accessed it?”
“We’re checking.”
Charlotte looked at Mara.
“Is Derek Mills there?”
Nathan paused.
“No.”
“Where is he?”
“We don’t know.”
Charlotte closed her eyes briefly.
The guard she had personally instructed to protect the footage had vanished.
“Lock down the digital security office.”
“I already did.”
“Nobody leaves.”
“Charlotte, you can’t turn the hotel into a prison.”
“Watch me.”
“Where are you?”
“I’ll call you.”
She disconnected.
Mara drove south.
“Where are we going?” Charlotte asked.
“To someone who can help.”
“Who?”
“Your father trusted very few people near the end.”
“That is becoming obvious.”
“One of them still works inside the Solmere.”
Charlotte looked at her.
“Who?”
Mara answered.
“Evelyn Price.”
Charlotte knew the name.
Head housekeeper.
Sixty-one years old.
She had worked at the hotel since Charlotte was a child.
“She’s still there?”
“Yes.”
“Why hasn’t she contacted me?”
“Because your father told her not to unless you came back on your own.”
Charlotte looked out the window.
Again, the same thought.
He knew.
William Vale had known enough to prepare people for what would happen after his death.
Mara parked outside an ordinary apartment building in Brooklyn.
Evelyn Price opened the door before they knocked.
She looked older than Charlotte remembered.
Smaller.
But the moment she saw Charlotte, tears filled her eyes.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Charlotte had spent years being addressed as Ms. Vale.
By staff.
Investors.
Journalists.
Lawyers.
Nobody had called her sweetheart since her father died.
Evelyn hugged her.
Charlotte allowed herself three seconds.
Then she stepped back.
“You knew.”
Evelyn’s face fell.
“Some of it.”
“How much?”
“Enough to be afraid.”
They entered.
Evelyn locked three separate locks.
On her kitchen table sat an old hotel laundry bag.
She opened it.
Inside were keys.
Access badges.
Printed schedules.
A small notebook.
And a master key card.
“Your father gave these to me eleven days before he died.”
Charlotte touched the notebook.
“What did he say?”
“That if anything happened, I should keep them hidden.”
“Why you?”
Evelyn’s mouth tightened.
“Because I clean rooms.”
Charlotte waited.
Evelyn gave a humorless laugh.
“Rich men never notice the woman changing their towels.”
Mara sat down.
“What did you see?”
Evelyn opened the notebook.
“Room 417.”
Charlotte leaned closer.
Evelyn had written dates.
Times.
Initials.
Names.
One entry repeated constantly.
N.C.
Nathan Cole.
Another:
C.S.
Conrad Sterling.
And a third:
A.V.
Charlotte frowned.
“What is A.V.?”
Evelyn shook her head.
“I never learned.”
“Was my father there?”
“Twice.”
“When?”
“The second time was three nights before he died.”
Charlotte’s skin prickled.
“Who was with him?”
Evelyn turned a page.
Nathan Cole.
Caleb Rusk.
Conrad Sterling.
And someone Evelyn had identified only as Mr. Gray.
“What happened?”
“I was cleaning the service corridor. I heard your father shouting.”
“What did he say?”
Evelyn looked at Charlotte.
“He said, ‘You built this under my name, and I will burn every one of you before I let you keep it.’”
Charlotte swallowed.
“What happened next?”
“I heard something break. Then Nathan came out.”
“Nathan?”
“He saw me.”
Charlotte waited.
Evelyn’s eyes filled with fear even now.
“He told me I had ten seconds to forget what I heard.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“No.”
“Then why were you afraid?”
Evelyn closed the notebook.
“Because Nathan wasn’t the frightened one.”
Charlotte felt something shift.
“Who was?”
“Your father.”
Silence.
Evelyn looked directly at Charlotte.
“I had worked for William Vale for thirty-seven years. I saw him furious. I saw him grieving. I saw him lose millions in one afternoon and joke about it over dinner.”
May you like
She took Charlotte’s hand.
“That was the only night I ever saw your father afraid.”
