Chapter 8 - The Service Road
Reyes didn’t chase him.
He asked which vehicle Shaw had used, called it in, and told the resort to preserve the departure footage.
The calm mattered.
Panic makes a room easy to control.
Shaw had taught people that without ever meeting them.
Valerie watched Reyes make the call.
“Are you accusing Victor of something?”
“We’re asking him questions.”
“He left because you made this ridiculous.”
Nina stood.
“He asked the resort to erase the footage.”
Valerie turned so fast Nina flinched.
“Shut up.”
The room went still.
Nina’s face changed.
It was a small thing.
Her shoulders dropped.
Then straightened.
“No.”
Valerie blinked.
“I’m sorry?”
“I said no.”
“You work for me.”
“Not anymore.”
Valerie took a step toward her, but Reyes moved between them.
“Wait outside.”
“This is my party.”
“And this is a private room where people are giving statements.”
He shut the door before she could answer.
For the first time that night, I almost smiled.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from an unfamiliar number.
YOU WERE SMARTER WHEN YOU KNEW HOW TO STAY QUIET, LENA.
I laid the phone on the table.
Reyes photographed the screen without touching it.
“Has anyone used that name with you since the case?”
“No.”
Anton read the message.
His face went pale.
“Is that him?”
“We don’t know,” Reyes said.
“But somebody wants her to think so.”
“Yes.”
The detective arrived ten minutes later.
Her name was Lena Ortiz, a coincidence that made me close my eyes for half a second.
She noticed.
“Detective Ortiz is fine.”
Her voice was steady, direct.
She separated us for statements, photographed the torn dress, and asked questions that didn’t assume I had imagined anything.
Where had Valerie placed her hand?
Had she threatened me before?
Who had touched the envelope?
When she asked whether I wanted to report the assault formally, I said yes.
No speech.
Just yes.
Near midnight, the resort arranged a private exit through the staff wing.
Ortiz walked us out herself.
Nina came with us.
The air smelled of wet pavement and salt.
At the end of the service road, a vehicle idled without lights.
Ortiz stopped.
She raised one hand, keeping us behind her.
The vehicle’s lights snapped on.
It accelerated toward the gate.
May you like
As it passed beneath a security lamp, I saw the driver’s profile.
The man from our porch.
