Chapter 5 - THE KEY CABINET
The photograph showed Adrian's dark blue sedan in the company's underground garage. The date was February 18, the night he drove home from a fundraising dinner and lost control on Lake Shore Drive.
"That photo didn't come from a traffic camera," Nora said. "It came from the garage inspection bay."
Adrian remembered the crash in pieces: the brake pedal going soft, the railing rushing toward him, water below, a horn that wouldn't stop. Doctors had told him memory often returned that way, sharp fragments with no edges.
He went with Nora to the garage. Jace Miller, the overnight valet, was still there. His hands shook when Adrian held out the photo.
"I told the investigator the car left with a different sound," Jace said. "Nobody put it in the report."
"What sound?"
"A scrape under the chassis. I thought it was a loose shield. I was wrong."
The spare keys were kept in an electronic cabinet that logged every access. Jace printed the records. Adrian's key had been removed at 7:43 p.m., returned at 8:06, then taken by Adrian himself at 9:17.
"Who had access at 7:43?" Nora asked.
"The system says me." Jace's throat moved. "But I was helping an older couple at the entrance. My sister photographed us. They'd asked her to take the picture."
"Show us."
Jace unlocked his phone. In the background of the cheerful photo, a man in an expensive gray coat stood near the key cabinet. He was turned away, but his left hand rested on the door.
There was a silver signet ring on his little finger.
Adrian knew that ring. He had given it to Graham Sloane on the twentieth anniversary of the company.
"Please," Jace whispered. "My sister still works here. Don't tell him I showed you."
May you like
Before Adrian could answer, Jace's phone lit up with a message from an unknown number.
WE KNOW WHO YOU TALKED TO.
