Chapter 5 - THE MAN WHO WASN'T ON THE GUEST LIST|
By six that evening, the wedding had become a private emergency.
The guests had been told that Adrienne was unwell and that the reception would be postponed. Drivers waited outside the estate. Security personnel stood at every entrance. The catering staff were instructed to preserve the remaining food and packaging for inspection.
Marisol remained in the east office.
She had called Emilio twice, but both calls had gone to voicemail. He was supposed to be studying at the university library, where phones were often silenced.
She tried not to worry.
Then the door opened, and a security supervisor named Grant Mercer entered.
Grant was a former police officer with a square jaw and an expression that rarely changed. He had worked at Ashford for three years and had always been polite to Marisol.
Now he carried a tablet.
“Mr. Hawthorne wants to see you.”
Marisol stood.
“Did they find the bottle?”
“No.”
“Did they identify the man?”
“Not yet.”
She followed him through the east corridor, past the staff kitchen and down a staircase that led to the estate's lower service level.
Halfway down, Grant stopped.
“There's something you should know,” he said.
Marisol looked at him.
“What?”
“The man you described wasn't on the guest list. But someone opened the west service gate for him at ten seventeen this morning.”
“Who?”
Grant's jaw tightened.
“That's what we're trying to establish.”
They reached the security room, where several monitors displayed the estate's entrances and corridors.
Adrienne stood near the central desk with two members of his security team. On a screen, a grainy figure crossed the west courtyard carrying a narrow black case.
Marisol leaned closer.
“That is him.”
The man turned his head toward the camera.
Even through the blurred image, she recognized the shape of his face.
Adrienne looked at Grant.
“Can you identify him?”
“Not from this angle.”
“Show her the kitchen footage.”
Grant touched the controls.
The screen changed to a view of the private kitchen. Marisol watched herself enter with the lilies. She saw Celeste step into frame. Then the man appeared beside her.
He passed her the vial.
Celeste closed her fingers around it.
Marisol felt a strange mixture of relief and dread.
“There,” she whispered. “That's what I saw.”
Grant froze the image.
“Look at his left hand.”
A silver ring caught the light.
Adrienne leaned toward the monitor.
“That's a signet ring.”
“Possibly,” Grant said. “The camera isn't clear enough to read the engraving.”
Marisol studied the man's wrist.
A dark mark showed beneath his cuff, like a small tattoo.
“I saw that too,” she said. “A black line on his wrist. Maybe a symbol.”
Grant enlarged the image.
The mark was difficult to distinguish.
Adrienne turned to another monitor.
“Who opened the west gate?”
Grant typed a command.
The access log appeared.
The gate had been opened using a staff security credential belonging to a maintenance employee named Paul Danner.
“Where is Danner?” Adrienne asked.
“He was assigned to the greenhouse this morning,” Grant replied. “He left at noon.”
“Did he sign out?”
“No.”
Adrienne's face hardened.
“Find him.”
Grant dispatched two guards.
Marisol looked at the frozen image of the man with the vial.
“Mr. Hawthorne, there's something else.”
Adrienne turned.
“Before the man handed Celeste the bottle, he said something about an agreement. She told him that by tomorrow she would be Mrs. Hawthorne.”
“Did he say anything else?”
Marisol searched her memory.
The kitchen had been quiet enough that every word seemed engraved in her mind.
“He said, ‘By tomorrow, you may be a widow.’”
Nobody spoke.
The security room's ventilation system hummed overhead.
Adrienne looked at the screen again.
“That's not a supplier,” he said.
“No,” Marisol answered. “It isn't.”
Grant's radio crackled.
A guard had found Paul Danner's truck abandoned near the outer road. The driver's door was open. His phone lay in the passenger seat, smashed beyond use.
There was blood on the steering wheel.
Adrienne straightened.
“Call the police.”
Grant reached for his radio.
Before he could speak, every monitor in the room went black.
The lights flickered once.
Then the emergency alarm sounded.
From somewhere above them came a crash, followed by a woman's scream.
Marisol knew that voice.
Celeste.
Adrienne ran for the stairs.
Marisol followed.
Whatever had happened in the kitchen that morning was no longer confined to a vial, a cake, or a wedding.
May you like
Someone was moving through the estate.
And they had just made their next move.
