Chapter 11
The foundation tower was still dark when we pulled into the parking lot. It was just after six and the streetlights hadn't clicked off yet. The glass lobby was empty, the security desk unmanned, a single elevator waiting open like someone forgot to close it. Dante had a key card that still worked. He swiped it and the light turned green.
We didn't speak on the way up. Fourteen floors. I watched the numbers climb and listened to my breathing. My bag felt heavier with the ledger inside.
The ballroom on the fourteenth floor was empty. Chairs stacked against the wall, the long tables still covered in white cloth from the gala. The air smelled like leftover flowers and cleaning spray. Through the tall windows the city was gray and flat, not yet awake.
Dante led me past the stage to the back hallway. The private dressing suite was at the end, the door matte black with a small brass plate. Foundation Dressing - Private. This was where I'd been that night. Where someone slipped the folder into my tote while I was fixing my dress.
He unlocked it. The room was exactly as I remembered it. Vanity mirrors with round bulbs, a velvet chaise, a clothing rack, a small bathroom behind a frosted door. Someone had cleaned but left the setup. My throat tightened.
"We recreate it," Dante said, his voice low. "Same as it was. You were here from seven to seven forty. That's when they placed it."
I set my bag on the vanity and pulled out the ledger. The old leather was cracked at the spine. I ran my thumb over it once. "Where do I put it?"
"Where your tote was."
I remembered. I'd hung my tote on the back of the vanity chair while I touched up my lipstick. I placed the ledger inside my tote now, left the zipper half open, just like that night. My hands were shaking but I made them still.
Dante checked the hallway, then closed the dressing suite door halfway, not latched. "Handler always comes early on event days. Checks the room before staff arrives. We have maybe twenty minutes."
I took my phone out. Dante had shown me how to set it on the vanity behind the flower vase, camera angled toward the chair and door, voice memo also running as backup. I hit record. The red light blinked.
"You sure this will hold?" I asked.
"It'll capture him taking it," Dante said. "That's enough to prove intent. He can't claim you stole it if we have him coming for it."
He moved to stand behind the bathroom door, where he could step out but not be seen from the hallway. I sat on the chaise like I had that night, facing the mirror. I tried to breathe normally. The bulbs around the mirror were cold, unlit. I could see my reflection, pale, my white blouse tucked into my pants from the night before still. I looked tired.
We waited. The building hummed. Somewhere below a floor buffer started up. I counted the seconds and listened to my own breathing like I had in my apartment doorway that first night.
At 6:22 the hallway door clicked.
I didn't move. In the mirror I saw the dressing suite door push open. A man in his early fifties stepped in, navy suit, no tie, foundation badge clipped to his belt. I recognized him. Mr. Colton, the events director. He'd shaken my hand at the gala and told me I looked lovely. He'd smiled at me.
He stopped when he saw me. His hand stayed on the doorknob.
"Ms. Hart," he said. "You're early."
I kept my hands in my lap. "I needed to come back for something I left."
His eyes went to the tote on the chair. To the edge of leather showing inside. His expression didn't change, but his shoulders shifted a little.
"I see," he said. He didn't come closer. He glanced toward the half-open bathroom door, as if he sensed someone there. "That room was supposed to be empty until seven. Staff only."
Dante stepped out from behind the bathroom door. He didn't rush. He just stood where he could be seen, hands at his sides, his black jacket still zipped.
Colton's jaw tightened. He looked between us. "Dante."
"Mr. Colton," Dante said.
No one moved for a beat. The phone behind the vase kept recording, its little red light hidden by the glass. I could hear the faint hiss of the radiator under the window.
Colton let go of the doorknob and let the door swing shut behind him until it clicked. He took one step into the room, not toward the tote, but toward the vanity where I sat. His eyes stayed on Dante.
"You weren't supposed to bring her back here," he said, his voice even.
"I told you she had questions," Dante said.
I stood up. My legs felt weak but I kept my voice steady. "You left this in my bag," I said, and nodded toward the tote. "I want to know why."
Colton finally looked at me. His smile was gone. He stared at the ledger, then at my phone hidden behind the vase, then back at me, and I realized he'd seen the reflection of the red light in the mirror.
His hand moved slightly toward the vanity.
May you like
"Don't," Dante said quietly.
The room went still. The ballroom outside was silent. The three of us stood in that small, too-bright dressing suite with the ledger between us, and none of us reached for it first.
