Chapter 4 - The Man at the Gate
Dominic was halfway down the stairs before I reached the security room.
"Stay upstairs," he barked through my phone.
"No."
"Anna."
"My daughter identified him. I'm not sitting in a bedroom while you decide what I get to know."
I hung up before he could answer.
Ethan stayed with Lily and two guards on the fourth floor.
I hated every step away from her.
But I hated ignorance more.
By the time I reached security, six exterior feeds had returned.
The front gate camera showed an empty road.
The clock in the corner skipped from 4:19 to 4:30.
Eleven minutes.
Exactly.
Marco's voice came through a speaker.
"Movement north perimeter. Male, black coat."
Another guard shouted, "He's heading for maintenance."
Dominic appeared on camera running across the lawn without a coat.
I pressed closer to the monitor.
"Zoom."
The technician beside me hesitated.
"Do it."
The image tightened.
The man from the gate vaulted a low stone wall and disappeared between trees.
Three Moretti guards followed.
Marco came from the opposite side.
They were closing him in.
A new sound cracked through the audio.
One shot.
The stranger jerked forward.
He dropped face-first into frozen grass.
"Who fired?" Dominic shouted.
Nobody answered.
"WHO FIRED?"
The guards lowered their weapons.
Marco looked toward the tree line.
"Not us."
Dominic knelt beside the fallen man.
Blood spread beneath the black coat.
I gripped the edge of the desk.
The sniper had not missed.
He had erased a witness.
Dominic searched the man's pockets.
Wallet.
Phone.
Counterfeit party invitation.
He held an ID toward a body camera.
NATHAN COLE.
I knew the name from the guest spreadsheet.
"He wasn't invited," I said.
The technician looked at me.
"You're sure?"
"I approved the final seating list."
I opened the archived file.
No Nathan Cole.
No company.
No plus-one.
The invitation displayed on Dominic's body camera looked perfect anyway.
Same embossing.
Same serial strip.
Same private security mark.
Someone had copied an invitation from inside the estate.
Marco crouched beside the body.
"There's something else."
He pulled a plastic card from the inside pocket.
Old Moretti logo.
Magnetic strip.
Security access.
Dominic stared at it.
"We replaced those six years ago."
My lungs stopped working properly.
Six years.
Michael had started taking contract jobs at the estate six years earlier.
I left the security room before anyone could stop me.
Dominic met me at the maintenance entrance twenty minutes later.
His shoes were wet with grass.
"I told you to stay inside."
"Show me the card."
He did not move.
"Dominic."
It was the first time I had ever used his name without Mr. Moretti.
His eyes narrowed.
Then he took the card from an evidence sleeve.
The plastic had been scratched near one corner.
Two letters.
M.R.
My hand closed around Dominic's wrist.
"Michael Reyes."
He looked at me.
No confusion.
No question.
Recognition.
I let go as if his skin had burned me.
"You know those initials."
"Anna—"
"You knew my husband."
"He worked here."
"That's not what I asked."
Marco came through the door behind him.
His eyes dropped to the card.
Then to me.
Dominic put the evidence sleeve in his pocket.
"Not here."
I stepped in front of him.
"My husband died two years ago. A car hit him and left him on the road. Police told me he was coming home from a job."
Dominic's nostrils flared.
"Anna."
"Was the job here?"
Silence.
I heard wind push against the metal service door.
Marco looked away.
That was worse than Dominic's silence.
I grabbed his sleeve.
"Was Michael here the night he died?"
Dominic finally spoke.
"Yes."
My knees nearly folded.
"Doing what?"
His mouth opened.
A guard ran in from outside.
"Sir, sniper position found."
Dominic did not look away from me.
The guard swallowed.
"There was a second access card in the blind."
He held up another evidence sleeve.
Fresh blood marked the corner.
May you like
The name printed on it was mine.
