Chapter 5 - The Fiancée in the Red Coat
“Vanessa was there?”
Claire leaned across the table.
“Where?”
I pointed at the reflection.
“The hospital.”
She took the photograph and studied it.
For the first time since we'd met, she looked genuinely surprised.
“That's Vanessa Whitmore?”
“Yes.”
Claire removed her reading glasses.
“When this photograph was taken, Vanessa was nineteen.”
I calculated quickly.
She was twenty-eight now.
Nine years ago.
Old enough to remember.
Young enough that her father might have convinced her to keep quiet.
“Did you know she was involved?” I asked.
“No.”
“Then how did you miss her?”
“Because we were focused on the patient, the nurse, and Richard.”
I stared at the photograph.
Vanessa's reflection was faint.
But unmistakable.
Her face was turned toward Gabriel.
She wasn't smiling.
She looked frightened.
Claire took out her phone.
“I need to send this to my former partner.”
I stopped her.
“Wait.”
She looked up.
“What?”
“Who else has seen this photograph?”
“Very few people.”
“Then someone needs to explain why Vanessa recognized my necklace.”
Claire nodded slowly.
“Agreed.”
She put the photograph away.
“There's something else you should know.”
I braced myself.
“Gabriel didn't die at the hospital.”
“Where did he die?”
“At his apartment.”
“Then why was he hospitalized?”
Claire's expression tightened.
“He was admitted after an apparent overdose.”
I stared.
“Was it intentional?”
“That's what the records said.”
“But you don't believe it.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Gabriel called me from that hospital.”
My pulse quickened.
“What did he say?”
“He said someone had drugged him.”
I looked at the photograph again.
“And Vanessa was there.”
Claire nodded.
“He told me he had proof that his father was involved in the cover-up.”
I blinked.
“Dominic's father?”
“Victor Moretti.”
I knew the name.
Victor had built Moretti Industrial into a multibillion-dollar empire.
He died five years ago.
Newspapers called him a visionary.
His portrait hung above the fireplace in Dominic's mansion.
Claire continued.
“Gabriel believed Victor was protecting Richard.”
“Why?”
“Because Richard had evidence of illegal payments that could destroy the company.”
I looked toward the diner's window.
A delivery truck passed.
For one strange moment, I wished I were inside it.
Just another driver making another delivery.
No dead engineers.
No secret storage boxes.
No wealthy family that seemed willing to kill to protect itself.
My phone vibrated.
Dominic.
I hesitated.
Claire noticed.
“Answer it.”
I put the call on speaker.
“Avery?”
His voice sounded exhausted.
“Are you safe?”
“For now.”
“Good.”
“Someone took your phone last night.”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“My head of security.”
I frowned.
“Daniel?”
“No. Daniel was assigned to the exterior grounds.”
“Then who?”
“Martin Shaw.”
Claire's face changed.
She reached across the table and wrote a name on her notebook.
MARTIN SHAW.
I looked at her.
She shook her head slightly.
Dominic continued.
“Martin worked for my father for twenty years.”
“Where is he now?”
“Gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?”
“He cleared out his office before sunrise.”
Claire leaned toward the phone.
“Dominic, this is Claire.”
“Claire?”
“Did Martin have access to your father's private archives?”
“Yes.”
“Then check the records room immediately.”
Dominic was silent.
“Why?”
“Because Martin Shaw was the security officer assigned to Gabriel the week he died.”
I felt my stomach drop.
Dominic swore.
“Stay where you are,” he said.
“I'll send someone.”
“No,” Claire replied.
“Don't send anyone.”
“Claire—”
“We don't know who works for whom anymore.”
The call ended.
I looked at her.
“You knew Martin?”
“I questioned him after Gabriel's death.”
“What did he say?”
“That Gabriel had been depressed.”
“And?”
“That he'd threatened to hurt himself.”
I stared.
“Was it true?”
“His friends and medical records didn't support that claim.”
Claire closed her notebook.
“We need the second pendant.”
“Where do we start?”
“With the last person photographed near Gabriel before he died.”
“Vanessa.”
“Yes.”
I shook my head.
“She won't talk.”
“Maybe not to me.”
Claire looked at my cheek.
“But she might talk to you.”
I almost laughed.
“She slapped me twice.”
“She tried twice,” Claire corrected.
“You stopped the second one.”
“That doesn't mean she'll confess to murder.”
“No.”
Claire leaned back.
“But people like Vanessa often reveal more when they think they're in control.”
I considered that.
Then my phone buzzed again.
A text from an unknown number.
You embarrassed me in front of everyone.
A second message followed.
Come to the Whitmore Foundation office at four.
Then a third.
I have something your father wanted you to see.
I showed Claire.
She read the messages carefully.
“It's a trap,” I said.
“Possibly.”
“Then why would I go?”
“Because someone wants you to believe Vanessa has evidence.”
I looked at the screen.
“Maybe she does.”
Claire nodded.
“Then we make sure you don't walk into that building alone.”
At three forty-five, we parked across from the Whitmore Foundation.
Claire had already contacted a trusted investigator and shared our location.
I entered through the front doors.
The lobby smelled of polished wood and expensive flowers.
A receptionist looked up.
“May I help you?”
“Avery Carter.”
Her expression changed.
“Miss Whitmore is expecting you.”
Of course she was.
I followed a security guard to the fourth floor.
Vanessa waited in a glass-walled office.
She wore a cream suit.
Her hair was perfect.
Her makeup concealed the exhaustion beneath her eyes.
She looked at my cheek.
Then smiled.
“Still sore?”
I sat down.
“Still engaged?”
Her smile disappeared.
“Dominic and I are working through a misunderstanding.”
“You assaulted me.”
“You provoked me.”
I leaned forward.
“Why were you at Gabriel Moretti's hospital room nine years ago?”
Vanessa froze.
It lasted only a second.
But I saw it.
“What?”
I placed the photograph on her desk.
Her eyes dropped to it.
Then she looked at the door.
“Where did you get that?”
“Answer me.”
She stood.
“You need to leave.”
“Why did you recognize my father's necklace?”
She pressed a button beneath her desk.
I heard a lock click.
The office door sealed.
My pulse accelerated.
Vanessa walked toward me.
“You have no idea what you're doing.”
“Then explain it.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
For a moment, I thought she might actually tell me the truth.
Instead, she whispered, “My father will kill me.”
I stared.
“What?”
She grabbed my arm.
“Listen carefully.”
The lights above us flickered.
Vanessa looked toward the security camera in the corner.
Then she leaned close.
“Gabriel didn't give his half of the necklace to my father.”
“Who has it?”
Her lips trembled.
“I do.”
Before I could speak, a sharp cracking sound came from the window.
Glass burst inward.
Vanessa screamed.
I grabbed her and pulled her behind the desk.
A second impact shattered the lamp above us.
May you like
Someone was shooting into the office.
And Vanessa, the woman who had ordered me onto my knees, was suddenly clinging to me for her life.
