Chapter 3 - September at the Waterfront
“Lena Carson.”
Beatrice moved between the stranger and Theo’s bed.
“Get out.”
The man raised both hands.
“I’m not here to hurt anyone.”
“Then you picked a strange way to introduce yourself.”
His eyes flicked toward the sleeping boy.
Theo hadn’t moved.
The yellow star-shaped night-light glowed beside him.
Beatrice reached for the nurse-call button.
“Wait.”
“One more step and I press this.”
“I knew your sister.”
Her thumb stopped.
The stranger looked about fifty. Gray touched the sides of his dark hair. His jacket was ordinary, his shoes worn, his face carrying the exhausted caution of someone who had spent years looking over his shoulder.
Beatrice kept her body between him and Theo.
“How?”
“My name is Daniel Mercer.”
“That means nothing to me.”
“It wouldn’t.”
“Then leave.”
“I was working security at the waterfront festival the night Theo was injured.”
Everything inside Beatrice went quiet.
Her phone was still in her hand.
The three anonymous messages remained on the screen.
DO NOT LET THEM KEEP THE FRAGMENT.
YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHO ADRIANO SARTI REALLY IS.
ASK HIM WHAT HAPPENED AT PAVILION NINE.
Beatrice looked from the messages to Daniel.
“Did you send these?”
“No.”
“Don't lie to me.”
“I don't have your number.”
“Yet you found my nephew's room.”
Daniel glanced into the hallway.
“That wasn't difficult.”
“For someone who knew where to look.”
“Yes.”
Beatrice pressed the nurse-call button.
Daniel didn't run.
That bothered her more than if he had.
“You have maybe thirty seconds,” she said. “Use them.”
Daniel reached slowly into his jacket.
Beatrice stiffened.
He removed an old plastic identification badge.
The photograph showed a younger version of him.
WATERFRONT EVENT SECURITY.
Below it was a date.
September 17.
Beatrice stared.
“Your sister spoke to me that night,” Daniel said.
“What did she say?”
“She was terrified.”
“Because Theo was hurt?”
Daniel shook his head.
“Before that.”
Beatrice's throat tightened.
“Before?”
Footsteps approached outside.
Daniel lowered his voice.
“She saw something near Pavilion Nine.”
“What?”
“I don't know exactly.”
“You just said she spoke to you.”
“She asked me where the nearest public exit was. Then she asked if security cameras covered the eastern service lane.”
“Why?”
“She wouldn't tell me.”
A nurse appeared in the doorway.
“Ms. Carson? You called?”
Beatrice didn't take her eyes off Daniel.
“Yes.”
Daniel calmly placed the old badge on the counter.
“I was just leaving.”
The nurse looked between them.
“Do you know him?”
Beatrice hesitated.
“No.”
The nurse's posture changed.
“Sir, you'll need to come with me.”
Daniel nodded.
Before turning away, he looked at Beatrice.
“Ask Sarti about Pavilion Nine.”
Beatrice's skin went cold.
Daniel walked into the hallway.
The nurse followed him.
Beatrice waited until they disappeared.
Then she picked up the security badge.
Something had been written on the back in faded blue ink.
A number.
P9-4431.
Beneath it were three letters.
L.C.
Beatrice sat down.
Lena Carson.
Her sister had touched this badge.
Maybe written on it.
Maybe not.
But somehow, after two and a half years, a dead woman's initials had appeared in the same story as Adriano Sarti.
Beatrice looked at Theo.
His face was peaceful.
She wished she could borrow that peace for five minutes.
Instead, she called Adriano.
He answered immediately.
“Beatrice?”
“Pavilion Nine.”
Silence.
She stood.
“What happened there?”
“Where are you?”
“Don't do that.”
“Do what?”
“Answer a question with a question.”
Another pause.
“Who told you about Pavilion Nine?”
“A man named Daniel Mercer.”
The silence changed.
Beatrice heard movement on the other end.
“Where is he?”
“He just left.”
“Beatrice, listen carefully. Do not follow him.”
“Why?”
“Stay with Theo.”
“Why?”
“I’m coming.”
She almost laughed.
“No. You're going to answer me now.”
“I will.”
“Now.”
Adriano exhaled.
“Pavilion Nine was being used for a private business meeting during the festival.”
“Your meeting?”
“Yes.”
“And something happened.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“A confrontation.”
“What kind?”
“One that got out of control.”
Beatrice closed her eyes.
“Theo was four.”
“I know.”
“He had dinosaur sneakers.”
Adriano said nothing.
“My sister sent me a picture that afternoon. He had blue ice cream all over his face. She told me he'd been begging to see the fireworks.”
Her voice cracked.
“They never made it to the fireworks.”
“Beatrice—”
“What happened at Pavilion Nine?”
“I don't know enough yet.”
“You know more than me.”
“Yes.”
“Then start there.”
Adriano remained silent for several seconds.
“When the confrontation happened, everyone inside believed the area around the pavilion had been cleared.”
“Cleared from what?”
Another pause.
“Danger.”
Beatrice stared at the floor.
“Was Theo hurt because of something that happened inside?”
“I don't know.”
“That means maybe.”
“Yes.”
She ended the call.
Adriano called back immediately.
She ignored it.
Again.
Ignored.
A third time.
Beatrice switched the phone to silent.
She sat beside Theo and watched him breathe.
For years, the story had been simple.
A festival.
Confusion.
A piece of metal.
An accident.
Now every piece was changing shape.
At noon, Dr. Anand returned with paperwork.
Theo's surgery had been scheduled for seven the next morning.
“We'll begin preparing him tonight,” he explained. “No food after midnight.”
Beatrice nodded.
“And the fragment?”
“If we're able to remove it safely, pathology will document it.”
“I want it preserved.”
“I've added that request.”
“No one gets it except me.”
Dr. Anand studied her.
“Is there a legal issue I should know about?”
“I don't know yet.”
“That isn't reassuring.”
“It isn't supposed to be.”
He nodded slowly.
“I'll make sure the chain of custody is documented.”
Chain of custody.
The phrase sounded ridiculous inside a child's hospital room.
But nothing felt ridiculous anymore.
Adriano arrived twenty-three minutes later.
Beatrice saw him before he saw her.
He came down the corridor without his usual vest, wearing only a white shirt and dark trousers. His sleeves were rolled up.
He looked less like her employer.
More like the man from the waterfront records.
She stepped outside Theo's room and closed the door behind her.
“You shouldn't be here.”
“I told you I was coming.”
“And I told you not to.”
“You hung up.”
“That was the answer.”
Adriano stopped several feet away.
“Where's Mercer?”
“Gone.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That Lena was afraid before Theo got hurt.”
Adriano's expression hardened.
“He said she asked about security cameras near the eastern service lane.”
That got a reaction.
Small.
But real.
“You know something about those cameras.”
Adriano looked toward the nurses' station.
“Not here.”
“I'm done going places because you say so.”
“Then we'll talk here.”
“Good.”
He lowered his voice.
“There were four cameras covering Pavilion Nine.”
“And?”
“The official report says all four malfunctioned.”
Beatrice stared at him.
“You believe that?”
“No.”
“Did you ever?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Victor Hale told me.”
There was that name again.
“Who exactly was Victor?”
Adriano looked at her.
“He handled security and sensitive problems for my businesses.”
“And you trusted him.”
“Completely.”
“Until now.”
“Yes.”
“What changed?”
“You.”
Beatrice frowned.
“Theo.”
Adriano corrected himself.
“The records shouldn't exist the way they do. Your sister shouldn't be in my internal file. Theo's hospital admission shouldn't share an incident reference with Pavilion Nine.”
“Who created the reference?”
“Victor.”
“And who crossed out Lena's name?”
“Victor.”
Beatrice felt anger rising again.
“Then find him.”
“I’m trying.”
“Trying?”
“He disappeared this morning.”
She stared.
“After you opened the old file?”
“Yes.”
“That's convenient.”
“No. It's frightening.”
The admission surprised her.
Adriano didn't seem like a man who used that word often.
“Why?”
“Because Victor doesn't run unless he believes something can expose him.”
“Expose what?”
“That's what I need to find out.”
Beatrice pulled Daniel's badge from her pocket.
Adriano's eyes narrowed.
“He left this.”
She turned it over.
P9-4431.
L.C.
Adriano took it carefully.
“Does the number mean anything?”
“Yes.”
Beatrice waited.
“Well?”
“Security archive numbering.”
“For what?”
“Recorded footage.”
Her heart kicked.
“You said the cameras malfunctioned.”
“That’s what I was told.”
“So this number could be a recording.”
“It could.”
“Of Pavilion Nine?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“If it still exists, the old waterfront security archive.”
“Then we're going.”
“No.”
Beatrice gave him a look.
Adriano reconsidered.
“We're going after I confirm it's safe.”
“My nephew is having spinal surgery tomorrow morning. I don't have time for you to make everything safe.”
“This isn't a hospital bill, Beatrice.”
“No. It's the reason there is a hospital bill.”
That silenced him.
She held out her hand.
“Give me the badge.”
He returned it.
Beatrice put it into her pocket.
“I'm going.”
“Then I'm coming with you.”
She almost refused.
Then she remembered the anonymous texts.
Someone knew where Theo was.
Someone knew about the fragment.
Going alone suddenly felt less like courage and more like stupidity.
“Fine.”
The old waterfront administration building had been closed for eighteen months.
The festival still operated every summer, but security had moved to a newer facility two blocks north.
Adriano had access to the old building through the property company that owned it.
Beatrice didn't ask why.
She was running out of room for questions.
They entered through a side door.
Dust covered the reception desk.
Most of the furniture was gone.
The archive room was downstairs.
Adriano switched on the lights.
Rows of metal shelves appeared.
Boxes.
Hard drives.
Old equipment.
Beatrice removed the badge.
“P9-4431.”
Adriano searched the labels.
P9.
A shelf near the back.
Boxes 4000 through 4500.
Beatrice's pulse accelerated.
They found 4431.
The box was empty.
She stared at it.
“No.”
Adriano lifted it.
Something slid underneath.
A small envelope.
He opened it.
Inside was a storage key.
And a handwritten note.
If Lena comes back, give her the copy.
Beatrice stopped breathing.
She recognized the handwriting.
“That's my sister's.”
Adriano looked at her.
“You're sure?”
“She wrote birthday cards like that. The capital L always leaned backward.”
Beatrice took the note.
Lena had been here.
Not just at the festival.
Here.
Inside this building.
“What copy?”
Adriano examined the storage key.
A number had been stamped into it.
They found a row of old lockers against the far wall.
Beatrice inserted the key.
It turned.
Inside was a small black case.
Her hands trembled as she opened it.
A flash drive.
Nothing else.
Adriano found an old computer on the archive desk.
It took several minutes to start.
Beatrice inserted the drive.
One video file appeared.
SEPT17_P9_COPY.
Adriano looked at her.
“You don't have to watch this.”
“Yes, I do.”
She clicked.
The footage was grainy.
Timestamp: 8:41 P.M.
Pavilion Nine.
People moved through the frame.
A private gathering.
Waiters.
Security.
Guests.
Then Beatrice saw him.
Adriano.
Two and a half years younger.
Standing near the pavilion entrance.
She looked at the man beside her.
He didn't deny it.
Onscreen, another man approached Adriano.
Tall.
Gray suit.
Beatrice pointed.
“Victor?”
“Yes.”
The video had no sound.
Victor handed Adriano something.
They argued.
Then Victor turned toward someone outside the camera frame.
People suddenly began moving.
The image shook.
The timestamp jumped.
8:43.
Beatrice leaned closer.
A woman appeared at the edge of the frame.
Brown coat.
Dark hair.
Holding a little boy's hand.
Beatrice covered her mouth.
“Lena.”
Theo was beside her.
Tiny.
Walking.
Alive in a way Beatrice hadn't seen him since.
He was wearing dinosaur sneakers.
Blue.
Exactly as she remembered.
Lena stopped.
She looked toward Pavilion Nine.
Then she saw something.
Her face changed.
She pulled Theo behind her.
Victor appeared.
He noticed Lena.
Even without sound, Beatrice could see him shouting.
Lena ran.
Theo stumbled.
The footage glitched.
Then returned.
Lena was on the ground beside Theo.
Beatrice couldn't breathe.
Adriano stepped toward the screen.
“No.”
Victor crossed the frame.
He looked directly toward the camera.
Then the recording ended.
Beatrice stared at the black screen.
“That’s it?”
Adriano checked the file.
“No.”
“What?”
“There's another minute.”
“Then why did it stop?”
He moved the cursor.
The final section had been separated.
A second file.
Hidden.
Adriano opened it.
The footage resumed.
Lena was standing now.
Theo wasn't visible.
She was arguing with Victor.
Then she pointed toward the camera.
Victor's face changed.
Lena reached inside her coat.
She removed something.
A phone.
She held it up.
Victor stepped toward her.
The footage froze.
A warning appeared on the computer.
FILE CORRUPTED.
Beatrice hit the keyboard.
“No. No, come on.”
Adriano tried another player.
Nothing.
Then a new folder appeared on the flash drive.
It hadn't been visible before.
PASSWORD PROTECTED.
The folder name was only one word.
BEATRICE.
She stared at it.
“My sister made this for me.”
Adriano said nothing.
A password box appeared.
Beatrice tried Theo's birthday.
Incorrect.
Lena's birthday.
Incorrect.
Their mother's name.
Incorrect.
“One attempt remaining,” Adriano warned.
Beatrice closed her eyes.
Think.
Lena had always used the same answer when Beatrice asked why she kept old photographs, old letters, old receipts.
Because memories disappear when nobody protects them.
Beatrice typed:
PROTECTTHEMEMORY
The folder opened.
One video.
One document.
And one audio recording.
The audio file was titled:
IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO ME.
Beatrice's hand hovered over the mouse.
Before she could click it, footsteps sounded upstairs.
Adriano turned toward the staircase.
One step.
Then another.
Slow.
Deliberate.
The archive door opened.
A man's voice came from the darkness.
“Beatrice.”
She recognized the voice from the hospital.
May you like
Daniel Mercer had found them.
And he wasn't alone.
