Chapter 7 - ROOM 814
According to Diane, Thomas Vale had been my father-in-law's business partner twenty years earlier.
Mark had hated the man since he was a teenager.
"He's supposed to be in Arizona," Mark said. "Or dead. Mom changed the story depending on when you asked."
The police accompanied us to room 814.
No one answered.
The hotel manager opened the door.
The room was empty.
On the bed sat a leather briefcase.
Inside were old financial records, newspaper clippings, and a photograph of Diane standing beside a much younger Thomas Vale.
They were holding hands.
Mark stared at it.
"That's impossible."
There was more.
Letters.
Dozens of them.
The oldest were twenty-two years old.
They were romantic.
Not vague. Not friendly.
Romantic.
Thomas had written that he wanted Diane to leave her husband. Diane had written that she needed time because "the accounts were almost ready."
Rachel covered her mouth.
"The accounts?"
Then we found a letter dated two weeks before Mark's father's company collapsed.
Diane had written:
ONCE ROBERT SIGNS THE TRANSFER, WE CAN MOVE EVERYTHING WITHOUT HIM KNOWING.
Mark sat on the edge of the bed.
For years, Diane had told him Thomas destroyed his father.
But the letters suggested something much worse.
Diane and Thomas may have done it together.
A hotel security officer entered.
"We found footage of the guest registered to this room."
He showed us a still image.
The man was in his late sixties, gray-haired, thin, wearing glasses.
Mark stared at the screen.
"That's him."
"When did he leave?" I asked.
The officer hesitated.
"He didn't."
"What do you mean?"
"According to the elevators, he came up at 6:14 p.m. and never went back down."
We all looked around the empty room.
Then a knock sounded from inside the bathroom wall.
May you like
Three slow taps.
And a man's voice said, "Mark?"
