Chapter 4 - The Locked Corridor
Rowan House was a brick apartment building twelve miles away. Forty-three families lived there under a trust Walter Rowan had created. The forged paper made Tessa, the residents' liaison, appear to support a plan to evict them for redevelopment.
"They can't do that," Tessa said. "My mother helped those families."
"Someone seems determined to try," Ortiz replied.
Adrian followed her toward the service hallway. Grant Pike was waiting by the security monitors, straightening his cuffs. He had worked for Gideon for years.
"Show us the dressing-room cameras," Adrian demanded.
"System fault," Grant said. "All the west-wing footage went out at eleven."
"The ceremony started at noon."
"Bad luck."
Ortiz touched the dark monitor. "Interesting. The east-wing footage still works. And there's no storm, no surge, no reason the west wing would fail alone. Don't touch the equipment."
Grant's jaw shifted. He reached for his radio, and Ortiz told a uniformed officer to stay with him.
In the corridor, Willa waited with Aunt Helen and a paper cup of apple juice. She looked at Tessa, then at Grant.
"That's the man," she said.
Grant gave a thin smile. "Sweetheart, lots of men wear black suits."
"Not the suit." Willa's voice shook. "He has a silver zipper on his boot. He told the lady behind the flowers to stop knocking."
Ortiz knelt beside her. "You don't need to tell us more right now, Willa. You've helped. Let's get you somewhere quiet."
Grant took one backward step. Adrian put himself between Grant and his sister.
"Where's the rest of the footage?" he asked.
"I told you. Gone."
"Then why are you sweating?"
A guard called from the equipment room. "Detective, somebody unplugged the camera recorder. The drive is missing."
May you like
Grant spun toward the side exit.
Before anyone could stop him, the fire alarm went off.
