Chapter 8 - THE BRIDE’S ROOM

Claire was gone.

So was Patricia.

Daniel found Emily standing near the cake table.

“Where’s your sister?”

“I thought she was with you.”

“She left.”

Emily looked alarmed.

“Why?”

“I need access to the bride’s room.”

“What happened?”

“Later.”

Ryan joined them.

“Police are in the lobby.”

Daniel looked at him.

“Keep them there.”

Ryan frowned.

“You planning to tell me why?”

“Yes. After I know I’m not accusing someone based on a guess.”

They hurried upstairs.

The bridal suite door was locked.

Emily had a keycard.

Inside, flowers covered every surface.

Champagne bottles sat in silver buckets.

Makeup bags.

Garment bags.

Gift boxes.

Daniel scanned the room.

“What are we looking for?” Emily asked.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s helpful.”

He moved toward the vanity.

Nothing.

Closet.

Nothing.

Bathroom.

Nothing.

Ryan checked beneath chairs.

Emily opened drawers.

“Daniel.”

He turned.

She was holding a black leather clutch.

“That’s Mom’s.”

“Where was it?”

“Behind the couch.”

Daniel took it.

Empty.

Except for a small brass key.

Ryan looked at the key.

“Locker?”

“Maybe.”

Emily shook her head.

“Mom doesn’t use staff lockers.”

Daniel looked around.

Then he saw a small gray box near the champagne station.

A portable wedding safe.

Claire had used it for gift envelopes.

Daniel inserted the key.

It fit.

Inside were stacks of cards.

Checks.

Cash.

And a bundle of fifty-dollar bills wrapped in a paper band.

Each bill had a blue corner mark.

Emily covered her mouth.

“Oh my God.”

Ryan whispered, “You have got to be kidding me.”

Daniel didn’t touch the money.

He took photos.

Then video.

Then he called the police upstairs.

Two officers entered minutes later with hotel security.

They photographed everything.

One officer asked, “Who had access to this room?”

Emily answered.

“Claire. My mom. Me. Four bridesmaids. The planner.”

“Who owns the clutch?”

“My mother.”

The officer nodded.

“We’ll need to speak with everyone.”

A voice came from the doorway.

“You won’t need to speak with me.”

Patricia.

She stood there alone.

No Claire.

Daniel looked at her.

“Where is she?”

Patricia ignored him.

She looked at the safe.

Then at the police.

Her shoulders dropped.

“Patricia Whitmore?” the officer asked.

“Yes.”

“Is this your clutch?”

“Yes.”

Emily whispered, “Mom, what did you do?”

Patricia closed her eyes.

“I was trying to fix it.”

Daniel stepped forward.

“Fix what?”

“The money.”

“What money?”

“Rosa’s. The vendor tips. Everything.”

Daniel stared.

Patricia gripped the doorframe.

“Claire had borrowed too much. She said she would put it back. Then vendors started calling. Accounts were short.”

“So you stole twelve thousand dollars?”

“I was going to replace it Monday.”

Ryan let out a stunned laugh.

“With what?”

Patricia looked at Daniel.

That look told him before she spoke.

“With money from the wedding gifts.”

Daniel felt disgust roll through him.

“You were going to steal the guests’ gifts to cover money you already stole?”

Patricia’s voice rose.

“You don’t understand what it’s like to keep a family’s reputation intact.”

Emily looked at her mother like she had never seen her before.

“And Miguel?”

Patricia looked away.

Daniel stepped closer.

“Did you put the envelope in his locker?”

“No.”

“Who did?”

Silence.

“Patricia.”

“I didn’t.”

“Did Claire?”

Patricia said nothing.

The officer repeated the question.

“Mrs. Whitmore, did your daughter place that envelope?”

Patricia’s face crumpled.

Daniel felt his pulse in his throat.

Then she whispered:

“Claire was never supposed to hurt him.”

Daniel went cold.

“What does that mean?”

Patricia looked at him.

“It was only supposed to look like he stole the money.”

Emily gasped.

Daniel’s hands curled into fists.

“Where is Claire?”

Patricia began crying.

“I don’t know.”

Daniel stepped forward.

“Where is she?”

“She left.”

“With who?”

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Patricia looked at him.

“With your brother.”