Chapter 7 - THE WOMAN IN SILVER
Evelyn watched the video three times.
The camera angle did not show what happened after Charles got into his car. But it showed Diane handing Preston a small black case. It showed Preston reaching into the driver’s side before Charles left the garage.
And it showed Rachel Bennett filming from behind a concrete column.
“That’s why Mom ran,” Lucas said.
Evelyn looked at him.
“She used to wake up from nightmares,” he continued. “She’d say somebody was coming. I thought it was the medicine.”
Marcus’s phone buzzed.
“The police found the shooter’s position,” he said. “No weapon. Shoe prints only.”
“Preston?”
“Maybe.”
Evelyn’s phone lit up with seventeen missed calls from board members.
One message came from Diane.
COME BACK TO THE BALLROOM. NOW. YOU ARE MAKING THIS WORSE.
Evelyn laughed once without humor.
“Good.”
She took Lucas downstairs through the staff elevator.
The gala had thinned, but more than two hundred guests remained. Diane stood near the stage speaking urgently with three trustees.
When she saw Evelyn, she marched over.
“Where have you been?”
“Learning about Dad.”
Diane went pale.
Evelyn lowered her voice. “Rachel left evidence.”
Diane’s eyes flicked to Lucas.
That was enough.
“You knew,” Evelyn said.
“I knew Rachel was unstable.”
“You knew she had proof.”
Diane grabbed Evelyn’s wrist. “Listen to me. You have no idea what you’re touching.”
Evelyn pulled free.
“I know exactly what I’m touching.”
A waiter hurried toward them.
“Ms. Cross, someone asked me to give you this.”
He handed Evelyn a white cocktail napkin.
Written in black marker were five words:
TRADE THE BOY FOR MARCUS.
Evelyn looked around.
“Where did this come from?”
The waiter pointed toward the service doors.
“Man in a black tux.”
Marcus stepped closer. “I’m standing right here.”
Evelyn’s phone rang again.
Unknown number.
She answered.
Preston’s voice said, “Not that Marcus.”
A photograph arrived while he spoke.
May you like
Marcus Reed’s sixteen-year-old son, Marcus Jr., was tied to a chair in a dark room.
Preston whispered, “Now we negotiate.”
