Chapter 2 - THE EMPTY ROOM
Ethan read the message over Grace’s shoulder.
For a moment, the ballroom disappeared.
He saw only the road again.
Headlights.
Wet pavement.
A brake pedal that kept sinking.
“Gone where?” he asked.
Grace was already typing.
Vanessa watched them.
“You look pale,” she said softly. “Maybe you should sit down.”
The concern was for the audience.
Ethan recognized that voice.
It was the same voice she had used beside his hospital bed while asking the surgeon whether he would ever be “fully himself.”
He lowered himself into the wheelchair because his legs were shaking.
He refused to let her turn that into a victory.
“Grace,” he said, “call the room.”
She stepped away.
Onstage, the foundation’s director tapped a microphone and announced that dinner would begin shortly.
Conversations restarted in cautious little bursts.
Vanessa bent beside Ethan’s chair.
“Whatever you think you found, we can discuss it at home.”
“There’s no we at home anymore.”
Her jaw hardened.
Across the room, Nolan opened the door.
Ethan raised his voice.
“Nolan.”
Heads turned.
His brother-in-law froze.
“You approved the fleet maintenance budget last October,” Ethan said. “Did Vanessa usually sign vehicle repair invoices?”
Nolan smiled too quickly.
“You’ve had a rough year. This isn’t the place.”
“Then answer somewhere else.”
Grace returned.
“The room isn’t answering.”
Room 814 had been reserved under her name.
Luis Ortega, the mechanic who had contacted them, had arrived that afternoon.
He was supposed to come downstairs after the evidence was secured.
Instead, a hotel employee had reported finding the room empty.
Ethan turned his chair toward the elevators.
Vanessa grabbed the handle.
He looked back at her hand.
“Let go.”
“You’re making a scene.”
“You poured a drink on me.”
She released it.
Upstairs, the corridor smelled of carpet cleaner and warm laundry.
Grace used her key.
Luis’s jacket lay across a chair.
His overnight bag was still on the floor.
The window was closed.
In the bathroom, a towel had been knocked down.
Ethan saw a dark smear on the sink.
Grace stopped beside the desk.
“His phone.”
Its screen was cracked.
Beneath it lay a hotel notepad.
Three words had been written hard enough to tear the paper.
DON’T TRUST REED.
Ethan stared at the name.
His oldest friend.
May you like
His company’s general counsel.
The man waiting downstairs with the rest of their evidence.
