Chapter 5 - THE WOMAN IN SILVER
At 10:06 p.m., Camille Dorsey disappeared from the ballroom.
Laurel noticed because she had spent the last twenty minutes trying not to look at her.
The silver gown was unmistakable.
So was the expression Camille had worn when Preston publicly accused Laurel of stealing.
Not surprise.
Not embarrassment.
Fear.
Laurel found Elias near the west terrace.
He was speaking with Margaret Ellis, who looked close to tears.
“The preliminary total is two million, six hundred and eighty thousand,” Margaret said.
Elias nodded.
“Then you exceeded your target.”
“Because of your donation.”
“Because your organization does good work.”
Margaret squeezed his hand and walked away.
Laurel waited until they were alone.
“Camille's involved.”
Elias looked at the photograph she handed him.
His expression changed almost imperceptibly.
“Where did you get this?”
“Anonymous delivery.”
He examined the image.
“Do you recognize the restaurant?”
“No.”
“I do.”
Laurel looked up.
“Where?”
“The private dining room at the Ashford Club.”
“Is that important?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the Ashford Club belongs to a holding company controlled by Camille Dorsey's father.”
Laurel stared at him.
“Who is her father?”
“Richard Dorsey.”
The name meant nothing to her.
Elias noticed.
“Richard was Northline's chief acquisitions officer until eleven months ago.”
Laurel felt the pieces shift.
“What happened?”
“He resigned during an internal investigation.”
“For what?”
“Unauthorized disclosure of acquisition information.”
The wind moved across the terrace.
Laurel suddenly felt very cold.
“And Camille?”
“She worked in corporate development under him.”
“Did she leave too?”
“Three months later.”
Laurel looked at the photograph again.
“Then she didn't meet Preston by accident.”
“I doubt it.”
“Do you think they're working together?”
“I think we have enough questions to justify an independent investigation.”
Laurel handed him the envelope.
“There's something written on the back.”
Elias read it.
His jaw tightened.
“Whoever sent this knows more than they're telling us.”
“Can we find out who owns the consulting company?”
“Yes.”
“How quickly?”
“Daniel's already working on it.”
Laurel folded her arms.
“Of course he is.”
For the first time, Elias smiled.
It was brief.
But it changed his entire face.
“You're beginning to sound disappointed that I'm prepared.”
“I'm beginning to suspect you have an investigator hiding in every chandelier.”
“Only the expensive ones.”
Laurel laughed.
It surprised them both.
For a moment, the night seemed almost ordinary.
Then Elias's phone rang.
He answered.
“Daniel.”
He listened.
His smile vanished.
“Send it.”
A document appeared on his screen.
He read it once.
Then again.
“Laurel.”
Something in his voice made her straighten.
“What?”
“Hensley Strategic Consulting was incorporated four months ago.”
“By whom?”
“The registered agent is a corporate services firm. But the beneficial ownership filing identifies a trust.”
“Whose trust?”
Elias hesitated.
“The Dorsey Family Investment Trust.”
Laurel stared at him.
“Camille's family?”
“Yes.”
Her mind raced.
“Then why use my name?”
“To make you the obvious suspect.”
“But why?”
Elias looked toward the ballroom.
“Because the consulting company isn't the real target.”
“What is?”
“Northline's acquisition.”
Laurel said nothing.
Elias continued.
“Richard Dorsey was removed after we discovered he had been sharing confidential information with outside bidders. We never proved who received it.”
“And now?”
“Now his daughter is dating a software executive whose company wants access to our hotel systems.”
Laurel looked down at the photograph.
“And Preston thinks humiliating me will help him win the contract.”
“Perhaps.”
“You don't sound convinced.”
“Because he's not the only person benefiting.”
A door opened behind them.
Daniel Cross stepped onto the terrace.
“We found Camille,” he said.
Laurel turned.
“Where?”
“Leaving through the underground garage.”
“Did you stop her?”
“No. She hasn't been accused of a crime, and hotel security has no grounds to detain her.”
Elias nodded.
“Good.”
Daniel continued.
“But she left something behind.”
He held up a small black flash drive inside an evidence sleeve.
Laurel stared at it.
“Where was it?”
“In the ladies' lounge, beside a vanity mirror. One of the attendants saw her place it there.”
“Why would she leave it?”
Daniel looked at Elias.
“Possibly because she wanted someone to find it.”
“Or because she wanted us to think that,” Laurel said.
Daniel nodded.
“Exactly.”
They arranged for the drive to be examined on an isolated forensic workstation.
Laurel returned to the ballroom to supervise the final donor acknowledgments.
At 11:12 p.m., the last guest departed.
The chandeliers dimmed.
Servers began clearing tables.
Laurel stood alone beside the empty dance floor.
Her trousers were still stained.
Her feet hurt.
Her professional reputation had nearly been destroyed.
And the man she'd loved for five years had apparently helped orchestrate it.
She closed her eyes.
“You should go home.”
Elias stood a few feet away.
“I have closing reports.”
“June can handle them.”
“She's been here since six this morning.”
“So have you.”
Laurel looked at him.
“Do you ever stop managing people?”
“Rarely.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
She studied him.
“Why are you really helping me?”
Elias didn't answer immediately.
Then he said something she hadn't expected.
“My younger sister worked at a hotel when she was nineteen.”
Laurel waited.
“She was accused of stealing from a guest. The accusation was false. The hotel fired her anyway.”
“What happened?”
“The guest found the missing jewelry in her own suitcase.”
“Did the hotel apologize?”
“Privately.”
“Did they rehire your sister?”
“No.”
Laurel felt a familiar anger.
“What did your sister do?”
“She became an attorney.”
“Good for her.”
“She now handles employment disputes.”
Laurel smiled faintly.
Elias looked toward the empty ballroom.
“I learned something from that experience. Wealth makes some people assume they're entitled to be believed. And it makes others afraid to challenge them.”
Laurel watched him.
“You don't seem afraid of wealthy people.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I've met too many of them.”
She laughed again.
Then Daniel appeared.
His expression was grim.
“We've examined the drive.”
Elias turned.
“What did you find?”
“Copies of the Halcyon's vendor records. Northline acquisition schedules. Internal emails.”
Laurel's stomach tightened.
“And?”
Daniel looked directly at her.
“There's a recording.”
“Of what?”
“A conversation between Preston Wade and Caleb Sutter.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
Daniel paused.
“In the recording, they discuss arranging the missing payments and making sure you take the blame.”
Laurel gripped the back of a chair.
Elias's face became dangerously still.
“Anything else?”
Daniel nodded.
“Preston says the plan came from someone above him.”
Laurel stared.
“Who?”
Daniel looked at the screen.
“That's the problem.”
“Why?”
“Because the other person's name was removed from the recording.”
Then he played the final ten seconds.
Preston's voice came through the speaker.
“Once Laurel is gone, Northline won't have anyone inside the hotel who can identify the original files.”
Caleb answered.
“And if North finds out?”
Preston laughed nervously.
“He won't. Not until the acquisition closes.”
Then another voice spoke.
A woman.
Older.
Controlled.
Familiar to Elias.
“Gentlemen, stop worrying about Laurel Hensley. She'll be irrelevant by Friday.”
Elias went completely pale.
Laurel looked at him.
“Who is that?”
He didn't answer.
“Elias?”
May you like
His voice was barely audible.
“My mother.”
