Chapter 3 - Room 304
Police reached the hotel before Nora did.
She was not allowed to leave the hospital until nearly 2:00 a.m., and by then Officer Grant had already called twice.
The woman in Room 304 was alive.
Barely.
Her name was Celeste Ward.
Thirty-two.
Accountant.
Employed by a company Nora had never heard of.
Vance Distribution Group.
Elias Vance’s company.
Celeste had been found unconscious on the carpet, dehydrated and bruised, with a sedative in her bloodstream.
She woke briefly in the ambulance.
She said one name.
“Preston.”
Then she lost consciousness again.
By sunrise, Preston Hale had disappeared.
His house was empty.
His phone was turned off.
His car was found in a parking garage three blocks from the restaurant.
Nora sat in a private hospital room and watched the news coverage unfold.
Marrow & Vine was closed.
Police tape surrounded the entrance.
The banner was still visible through the windows.
OUR EMPLOYEES ARE FAMILY.
Nora almost laughed at the irony.
Adrian sat near the window.
He had returned after speaking to police.
Nora studied him.
“You knew Elias.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Our fathers did business years ago.”
“What kind of business?”
Adrian looked at her.
“The kind I spent most of my adult life getting away from.”
It was the first direct reference he had made to his reputation.
Nora waited.
He did not hide.
“My father ran gambling operations, private clubs, and businesses that sometimes survived because people were too afraid to say no.”
“And you?”
“I inherited pieces of it.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No.”
“Are you a criminal?”
Adrian considered the question.
“I have done things I regret.”
“That still isn’t an answer.”
His mouth tightened.
“No convictions.”
“That is definitely not an answer.”
For the first time, he almost smiled.
Then it disappeared.
“My legal businesses are legal. My private security company is licensed. My restaurants are clean. My construction firm is clean. I spent ten years cutting ties with people my father trusted.”
“Elias?”
“One of them.”
Nora crossed her arms.
“What does B-17 mean?”
Adrian looked toward the hallway.
“Years ago, my father kept coded rooms in properties he controlled. B meant books.”
“Books?”
“Financial records.”
Nora’s stomach tightened.
“Seventeen?”
“Location number.”
“So B-17 was an accounting room.”
“Possibly.”
“Why would someone be crying there?”
“That’s what worries me.”
Nora stared at him.
“You were worried the second you saw the number.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Adrian hesitated.
Then he took out his phone.
He showed her an old photograph.
A restaurant.
Not Marrow & Vine.
A different place.
Older.
Darker.
A metal door was visible near the back.
B-12.
“My father used rooms like that to hold records that could ruin people.”
Nora looked at him.
“Blackmail?”
“Sometimes.”
“What else?”
“Contracts. Debt agreements. Evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
“Whatever kept someone obedient.”
Nora thought of Celeste saying, I signed it.
She felt sick.
“Do you think Elias was doing the same thing?”
“I think Elias never stopped.”
A nurse entered.
“Nora, there’s someone asking for you.”
Officer Grant appeared behind her.
“You have a visitor.”
Nora frowned.
“Who?”
“Your landlord.”
“My landlord?”
A nervous man stepped in.
Mr. Keene.
He looked terrified.
“Nora, I’m sorry.”
“What happened?”
“Your apartment.”
Her heart stopped.
“What about it?”
“Someone broke in.”
Officer Grant spoke.
“They didn’t steal electronics.”
Nora looked between them.
“What did they take?”
“Your paperwork.”
“What paperwork?”
“Bank statements. Tax records. Employment documents.”
Nora stared.
“Why?”
Grant shook her head.
“We don’t know.”
Adrian stood.
“Did they take her computer?”
“No.”
“Jewelry?”
“No.”
“Anything valuable?”
“Not according to Mr. Keene.”
Nora suddenly remembered something.
“My mother’s box.”
Grant looked at her.
“What box?”
“A metal file box. Blue. I keep it in my closet.”
“What was inside?”
“Old documents. My parents’ things.”
Grant wrote quickly.
“What things?”
“I don’t know. Insurance records. My dad’s old business papers. Some letters.”
Adrian became very still.
“What was your father’s name?”
Nora turned toward him.
“Thomas Bell.”
Adrian’s face changed.
She noticed immediately.
“You knew him.”
He did not answer.
“Adrian.”
He looked at Grant.
“Check Thomas Bell against Vance Distribution.”
Nora stood too quickly.
Pain shot through her back.
She grabbed the bed rail.
“Stop talking around me.”
Adrian stepped closer, then stopped himself from touching her.
“Your father worked in freight?”
“He drove trucks.”
“For whom?”
“A dozen companies.”
“What year did he die?”
Nora swallowed.
“Seven years ago.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
Adrian went silent.
Nora felt cold.
“What?”
“My father died seven years ago too.”
Grant looked up.
“When?”
Adrian gave the date.
Nora’s breath caught.
Same date.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” she whispered.
“No,” Adrian said.
But his face said otherwise.
Nora remembered the night her father died.
Police told her his truck had gone through a guardrail.
They said he had been tired.
There was no evidence of alcohol.
No evidence another vehicle had hit him.
Just an accident.
Her mother never believed it.
For years she had insisted Thomas had been frightened in the weeks before his death.
Nora had thought grief was making her paranoid.
Then her mother died of cancer two years later.
The questions died with her.
Until now.
Officer Grant left to make calls.
Nora looked at Adrian.
“Tell me.”
“I don’t know enough.”
“Tell me what you suspect.”
He exhaled.
“My father died in what police called a single-car accident.”
Nora said nothing.
“The same highway.”
Her hands began to shake.
“The same night?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Nora—”
“No. My dad was a truck driver. Your father was…”
She stopped.
“A criminal?”
He finished it for her.
“Yes.”
“They had nothing to do with each other.”
“I hope not.”
“But you don’t think that.”
“No.”
Nora turned away.
Her phone rang.
Officer Grant.
She answered.
“Nora, we found something.”
“What?”
“Your father’s name appeared in a sealed civil case eight years ago.”
Her knees weakened.
“What case?”
Grant hesitated.
“A freight company sued a subcontractor after inventory disappeared.”
“So?”
“Your father was listed as a witness.”
Nora closed her eyes.
“Against who?”
Grant said the name.
“Elias Vance.”
Nora looked at Adrian.
He already knew from her face.
Grant continued.
“And Nora?”
“Yes?”
“There was another witness.”
Nora waited.
“Adrian’s father.”
Silence.
Two fathers.
One case.
Both dead the same night.
Nora’s mouth went dry.
Adrian stepped closer.
“What else?”
Grant’s voice sharpened.
“The sealed file was accessed yesterday.”
“By who?”
“We’re tracing it.”
Nora heard typing in the background.
Then Grant stopped.
“Wait.”
“What?”
A long silence.
“Someone just tried to access it again.”
“Who?”
Grant did not answer immediately.
When she did, her voice had changed.
“Nora, lock the hospital room.”
Adrian moved toward the door.
“Why?”
May you like
Grant whispered, “Because the login belongs to Preston Hale.”
The handle began to turn.
