Chương 2 - THE WOMAN IN THE RED DRESS
The technician’s name was Evan Cole, and Damian had never seen him look nervous around a computer.
Tonight, Evan looked nervous.
“Maybe,” he answered.
Damian leaned against the desk. “Maybe isn’t an answer.”
“It is when somebody has gone to considerable trouble to make sure there isn’t one.”
Evan enlarged the metadata.
“The photographs came from three different devices. Two phones and a miniature document scanner. Whoever did this understood basic digital security.”
“Vanessa?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
The security-room door opened.
Clara stepped inside.
Damian almost failed to recognize her.
Rosa had found her a simple navy dress. Her dark hair was still damp, falling loosely around her shoulders. Without the maid’s uniform, Clara seemed different—not because she was suddenly beautiful, Damian realized, but because the uniform had made everyone in his house stop looking at her long enough to notice that she always had been.
Clara caught him staring.
“Something wrong?”
“No.”
Rosa entered behind her.
“Good,” she said. “Because you have enough things wrong already.”
Damian ignored his aunt.
Clara looked at the computer. “What was on it?”
“Private business information.”
“How private?”
“Private enough.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Then someone hid it behind a portrait inside your house.”
Damian studied her.
“That appears to be what happened.”
“So whoever hid it needed access.”
“Yes.”
“And knew the painting wouldn’t normally be moved.”
“Yes.”
“And probably knew your security cameras don’t cover the gallery wall directly because cameras would ruin the historic interior.”
Damian straightened.
“How do you know that?”
“I clean the cameras.”
Evan coughed to disguise a laugh.
Damian gave him a look.
The laugh died.
Clara stepped closer to the monitor.
“There’s something else.”
Evan frowned. “What?”
She pointed toward one photograph.
“The reflection.”
The photograph showed a confidential report lying on a glass conference table.
In the polished metal border surrounding the table, a distorted figure was visible.
Evan enlarged it.
A red dress.
A woman’s hand.
And a distinctive diamond bracelet.
Nobody spoke.
Damian knew the bracelet.
He had bought it.
For Vanessa.
“Could be anybody,” Evan said carefully.
“No,” Rosa replied from behind them. “It could not.”
Damian turned.
His aunt’s expression had changed.
“You recognize it?”
“I helped you choose that bracelet.”
Clara looked away.
She suddenly felt as though she had entered a room she had no right to occupy.
Damian noticed.
“Stay.”
“I’m an employee.”
“You found the card.”
“And Vanessa already thinks I’m trying to steal something from her.”
Rosa raised one eyebrow.
“My dear, at this point Vanessa has larger problems.”
As if summoned by her name, Vanessa appeared at the security-room entrance.
“What is going on?”
Nobody answered.
Her gaze went immediately to the monitor.
That was mistake number two.
The first had been recognizing the memory card.
Vanessa recovered.
“Why is she here?”
Clara folded her arms.
“Apparently cleaning bathrooms has expanded into cybersecurity.”
Rosa smiled.
Damian did not.
He rotated the monitor.
“Recognize the bracelet?”
Vanessa stared at the image.
“No.”
“You own one like it.”
“So do hundreds of women.”
“Yours was custom-made.”
Her face hardened.
“Are you accusing me?”
“I’m asking.”
“You locked me inside your house. You confiscated my phone. Now you’re interrogating me because of a blurry reflection?”
“Then give Evan the passcode to your phone.”
Vanessa laughed once.
“No.”
Damian’s voice lowered.
“Why?”
“Because I am your fiancée, not your prisoner.”
“Then you’re free to leave.”
Her anger vanished.
For the first time, fear replaced it.
“You closed the gates.”
“I’ll open them for you.”
Rosa watched her carefully.
Vanessa looked from Damian to Clara.
Then she smiled.
It was an ugly smile.
“Now I understand.”
Damian’s jaw tightened.
“Understand what?”
“This.”
She gestured toward Clara.
“You’re enjoying this because she’s involved.”
Clara’s face flushed.
“Leave me out of your relationship.”
“Oh, please. The innocent maid routine was convincing until tonight.”
Damian moved between them.
“Enough.”
Vanessa’s eyes filled with tears so quickly Clara almost admired the performance.
“Three years, Damian. Three years I’ve stood beside you while people whispered about your family. I defended you. I accepted your secrets. And now some servant finds a memory card and suddenly I’m a criminal?”
Clara flinched at the word servant.
Damian saw it.
More importantly, Vanessa saw him see it.
Something vicious entered her expression.
“You know what?” Vanessa whispered. “Search my phone.”
She pulled it from her handbag and placed it on the desk.
“Search everything.”
Evan connected the device.
Ten minutes passed.
Then fifteen.
Nothing.
No suspicious photographs.
No encrypted apps.
No communications with competitors.
Vanessa’s confidence returned with every passing minute.
Finally Evan shook his head.
“Clean.”
Vanessa looked directly at Clara.
“Satisfied?”
Clara said nothing.
Vanessa picked up her phone.
Then Evan frowned.
“Wait.”
Damian turned.
“What?”
“The phone is clean.”
“You said that.”
“Too clean.”
Vanessa froze.
Evan opened a diagnostic screen.
“Three months ago, the device was restored to factory settings. But the memory card contains images taken before and after that date.”
“So?”
“So if this phone took those photographs, they’re gone.”
Vanessa scoffed. “You can’t prove it did.”
“No,” Evan said.
Then he clicked another file.
“But maybe this can.”
A video appeared.
The angle was strange, as though the camera had accidentally activated inside a bag.
For several seconds, there was darkness.
Then voices.
A man said, “Moretti signs the Baltimore agreement Friday.”
Vanessa’s voice answered.
“And once he does?”
“You get the marriage certificate. We get the acquisition schedule.”
Damian went completely still.
Clara stared at the screen.
Vanessa turned white.
The man in the recording laughed.
“After the wedding, Damian won’t know which assets belong to him and which belong to us.”
Vanessa lunged for the computer.
Damian caught her wrist.
“Don’t.”
She stared at him.
“Damian, listen to me—”
The video continued.
Then the unknown man spoke again.
And this time Rosa Moretti dropped the glass in her hand.
Because she recognized his voice.
“So,” Rosa whispered, staring at the screen, “the dead have finally learned how to speak.”
Damian turned toward her.
“What are you talking about?”
Rosa looked at her nephew.
“That man is Vincent Calder.”
“Who?”
May you like
Rosa’s face had gone pale.
“The man your father supposedly killed twenty-three years ago.”
