Chapter 4 - THE FILE WITH MY NAME ON IT
I drove back to the Wellington Grand with Anna beside me.
Neither of us spoke.
The city blurred beyond the windshield.
I kept replaying David's words.
I was the one who hired her.
Anna had told me she'd never met him before working at the hotel.
Someone was lying.
The question was why.
When we reached the hotel, I ordered security to lock every staff entrance.
"No one leaves without my authorization."
David was waiting in my office.
He looked irritated.
"You brought her here?"
"Yes."
He glanced at Anna.
"I asked to speak to you alone."
"You don't get to make that decision."
He stared at me.
"Martin, you're making a mistake."
"Then explain."
David closed the door.
"I know who Anna is."
"How?"
"Because three years ago, I was hired by the Whitmore family."
Anna stepped backward.
David continued.
"They wanted someone to locate her."
Her face went white.
"You?"
"I refused."
"Then why were you looking for me?"
"I wasn't."
He pointed toward my desk.
"Someone else was."
I studied him.
"Who?"
David pulled a folder from his jacket.
"The man who has been using your hotel."
Inside were photographs.
Bank transfers.
Employee records.
Private security reports.
And one photograph of Anna from three years earlier.
"Where did you get this?"
"Someone left it in my office last month."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't know who I could trust."
I almost laughed.
"You're telling me this now?"
"Because they're getting closer."
Anna looked at the photograph.
"I know that man."
I turned.
"Who?"
She pointed.
"The driver."
I looked at the photograph.
A man standing beside Daniel Whitmore's black SUV.
"His name is Marcus."
David nodded.
"Marcus Reed."
"What does he do?"
"Private security."
Anna's face tightened.
"He was there the night they came for my children."
Everything suddenly made sense.
Someone wasn't trying to find Anna.
They had already found her.
They were waiting.
I called my attorney.
Then my head of security.
Then the police.
But before anyone arrived, the hotel's fire alarm sounded.
Guests screamed in the lobby.
Security rushed downstairs.
I grabbed Anna's hand.
"Stay with me."
We moved toward the service elevator.
Then the lights went out.
Total darkness.
Anna gasped.
I heard footsteps.
Fast.
Coming toward us.
I pushed her behind me.
A figure rushed around the corner.
I grabbed his arm.
We struggled.
He punched me in the ribs.
I staggered.
Anna screamed.
The man ran.
Security lights flickered back on.
I looked down.
Something had fallen from his pocket.
A key card.
I picked it up.
It wasn't a hotel key.
It was a private access card.
And printed on it was one word.
WHITMORE.
Anna stared at it.
"They're here."
I nodded.
"Yes."
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
"Martin."
A man's voice whispered:
"You're protecting the wrong woman."
"Who are you?"
"You think Anna is innocent."
"She is."
"You don't know what she did."
"What did she do?"
Silence.
Then:
"Ask her about the night Daniel Whitmore died."
The call ended.
I looked at Anna.
Her face had lost all color.
"Anna?"
She couldn't speak.
"What happened the night Daniel died?"
Her eyes filled with tears.
"He's not dead."
I froze.
"What?"
She whispered:
"Everyone thinks Daniel Whitmore disappeared."
I stared at her.
"But he didn't."
"Where is he?"
Anna looked toward the dark hallway.
"He's been looking for us."
My phone buzzed.
A new message.
A photograph.
Daniel Whitmore.
Alive.
Standing outside the Wellington Grand.
And behind him was David Reynolds.
May you like
I slowly looked toward the lobby.
David was gone.
