Chapter 9 - THE DROP
The smoke burned Charlotte’s throat.
Daniel pulled his jacket over his mouth.
“There’s no fire alarm.”
Charlotte coughed.
“So this is intentional.”
“Yes.”
She hit the blue door.
“Margaret!”
No answer.
Daniel searched the walls.
“Archives used to have document chutes.”
“For what?”
“Moving records between floors.”
“Please tell me one still exists.”
He ripped aside a cabinet.
Behind it was a narrow metal hatch.
Charlotte stared.
“That?”
Daniel opened it.
A dark shaft disappeared below.
“You first.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You’re smaller.”
“That is the worst argument I’ve heard tonight.”
“Charlotte.”
She coughed again.
Hard.
Fine.
She climbed inside.
The chute was barely wide enough for her shoulders.
“Where does it go?”
“Probably thirty-seven.”
“Probably?”
“I told you, I didn’t know this room existed.”
Charlotte lowered herself.
Her boot slipped.
She dropped.
“Daniel!”
She shot down the metal shaft.
Then crashed into a pile of cardboard boxes.
Pain exploded through her back.
For several seconds, she saw stars.
A hatch opened above.
Daniel shouted.
“You alive?”
“No!”
“Good enough.”
He climbed down.
Ten minutes later, they were outside.
Charlotte sat on the sidewalk breathing cold morning air.
Daniel called the police.
Charlotte stared at the cassette in her hand.
“You mailed the invitation.”
Daniel went still.
She looked at him.
“Didn’t you?”
“How did you—”
“Sebastian said he sent it. But whoever deleted the camera footage knew exactly when I’d arrive. That means someone knew about the invitation.”
Daniel looked away.
“You did.”
Finally, he nodded.
“Mr. Valle wrote it. I mailed it.”
“Why secretly?”
“Because three invitations disappeared before yours.”
Charlotte stared at him.
“What?”
“Every time Sebastian tried to contact you, something happened. Letters were returned. Addresses changed in the system. Couriers were canceled.”
“Margaret?”
“I couldn’t prove it.”
“So you mailed this one yourself.”
“Yes.”
Daniel reached into his coat.
“And I kept something.”
He handed her a photocopy.
It was an internal shipping record.
Margaret Wren’s executive assistant had accessed the invitation database two hours before Charlotte’s delivery address was exported.
Charlotte looked up.
“Why didn’t you show Sebastian?”
“I planned to.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
Charlotte laughed bitterly.
“Great timing.”
Her phone rang.
Detective Ruiz.
“Charlotte, where are you?”
“At the hotel.”
“You were told not to leave—”
“Margaret just locked me in a room filling with smoke.”
Silence.
“We’re coming.”
Charlotte stood.
“Also, I found a recording of her threatening my mother.”
Another silence.
Then Ruiz said, “Do not confront her.”
Charlotte looked across the street.
A black car had just pulled away from the curb.
In the rear window, Margaret was watching her.
Charlotte raised the cassette so Margaret could see it.
Margaret’s face didn’t change.
She lifted her phone.
Charlotte’s phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number.
YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED GONE.
Then another message appeared.
A photograph.
Charlotte’s apartment back home.
May you like
Her front door.
Wide open.
