Chapter 4 - THE SECOND FALL
Camille Prescott returned to Alderwyn wrapped in a police blanket and carrying no shoes.
She was crying before she crossed the ballroom.
Not elegantly.
Not quietly.
Her makeup had washed down her cheeks. Her silver gown was torn near one shoulder, and mud covered the hem.
Richard Prescott arrived seven minutes later with three attorneys.
He did not hug his daughter first.
He looked for cameras.
Julian noticed.
Richard Prescott had built half his fortune on real estate and the other half on knowing which public official needed what kind of favor. He was sixty-two, silver-haired, broad-shouldered, and famous for smiling while threatening people.
He crossed the ballroom.
“What happened to my daughter?”
Detective Ellis answered.
“We’re determining that.”
Richard pointed at Julian.
“He locked her inside this estate.”
“She assaulted one of my employees with a riding crop.”
Richard barely glanced at Nora.
“Camille has never struck anyone in her life.”
Nora touched the welt on her cheek.
Richard finally looked.
Not guilty.
Calculating.
“An unfortunate misunderstanding,” he said.
Julian’s anger sharpened.
“A riding crop is difficult to misunderstand.”
Richard lowered his voice.
“You should be careful.”
“With what?”
“Destroying a twenty-year relationship because household help tells you a dramatic story.”
Nora looked away.
Julian saw it.
He stepped closer to Richard.
“Her name is Nora Bennett.”
Richard’s face changed.
Only slightly.
But it changed.
Julian saw recognition.
“So you know her.”
“I know a common surname.”
“No. You know that one.”
Richard’s lawyers moved closer.
Detective Ellis stepped between them.
“Mr. Prescott, you and your attorneys may wait in the library.”
Richard smiled.
“You are not detaining me.”
“Not yet.”
Camille sat alone near the fireplace.
Julian approached.
“What happened?”
She looked up.
“He attacked me.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“The guard says one masked man entered. You left through the side entrance with him.”
“He had a gun.”
“Where was Malcolm?”
“I thought he was behind me.”
“You thought?”
“I was terrified!”
Julian studied her.
Camille reached for his hand.
He stepped away.
The rejection hit harder than shouting would have.
“Julian.”
“Why did you text ‘burn’?”
“I told you. My stylist.”
“Stop.”
She went still.
“For once tonight, stop insulting me by pretending I’m stupid.”
Camille’s eyes filled.
“I love you.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I was angry.”
“At Nora?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she kept asking questions.”
“What questions?”
Camille looked toward her father.
Richard was watching through the library doors.
Julian followed her gaze.
Camille whispered, “About the west wing.”
“What did she ask?”
“She wanted to know why your mother’s rooms were being renovated.”
“They weren’t being renovated.”
Camille said nothing.
Julian felt a sick understanding.
“Who told the staff that?”
Camille closed her eyes.
“Malcolm.”
“And who arranged the contractors?”
“My father’s company.”
Nora stood ten feet away.
She heard every word.
“Why?” Julian asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“My father said Malcolm wanted old electrical wiring replaced before the wedding.”
“The electricity was disconnected.”
“I know that now.”
“Camille.”
He lowered his voice.
“You ordered someone to burn documents.”
She looked at him.
“No.”
“Then who was the message for?”
Her lips trembled.
Julian had known Camille for three years.
He knew her public smile.
Her irritated smile.
Her seductive smile.
Her smile when she wanted a waiter fired without appearing cruel.
He had never seen this expression.
Fear.
“I can’t tell you.”
Julian stared at her.
“Then our engagement is over.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“Whether you speak or not.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I watched you raise a weapon over an injured woman.”
Camille stood.
“She embarrassed me!”
Two nearby officers looked over.
Camille realized what she had said.
Too late.
Nora’s face went blank.
Julian removed the engagement ring from Camille’s left hand.
She tried to pull away.
He did not grip harder.
He simply waited.
Slowly, Camille stopped fighting.
The diamond slid from her finger.
Two hundred guests had watched him place it there six months ago during a charity gala in Manhattan.
Now only police, lawyers, staff, and a handful of stranded guests watched him take it back.
Camille whispered, “You will regret this.”
Julian put the ring in his pocket.
“Probably.”
She stared.
“But not for the reason you hope.”
An officer approached Detective Ellis.
“We traced the north-gate vehicle.”
“And?”
“Stolen yesterday in Stamford.”
“Prints?”
“Being processed.”
“Anything inside?”
“One thing.”
The officer handed Ellis an evidence bag.
Inside was a small brass key.
A paper tag was attached.
Julian pulled the metal star from another evidence bag.
Same number.
Nora whispered, “The safe.”
Detective Ellis looked at her.
“You said your mother had a matching star.”
“Yes.”
“Any idea where safe 317 is?”
“No.”
Julian did.
“First National Greenwich.”
Everyone turned.
“My mother kept private boxes there. The family still has accounts.”
Richard Prescott stepped from the library.
“This has gone far enough.”
Ellis looked at him.
“I don’t remember inviting you into the conversation.”
Richard ignored her.
“Julian, stop turning grief into paranoia.”
Julian held up the key.
“You recognize this?”
Richard’s eyes flicked toward it.
“No.”
Nora whispered, “He does.”
Richard laughed.
“You seem to know a great deal for someone polishing silver three months ago.”
Julian moved before he thought.
Not to strike Richard.
To stand between him and Nora.
Richard smiled.
“There you are.”
“What?”
“Your mother.”
Julian stared.
“Always rescuing strangers while her own family burned.”
Nora inhaled sharply.
Julian’s voice dropped.
“What did you just say?”
Richard realized his mistake.
One of his lawyers touched his elbow.
“Richard.”
“No,” Julian said. “Let him continue.”
Richard recovered.
“It was a figure of speech.”
“About my dead mother?”
“I knew Helena. Everyone did.”
“You knew her well enough to appear in her ledger.”
Richard’s face hardened.
“Business records contain business names.”
“Your initials are beside Malcolm’s.”
“Then ask Malcolm.”
“I intend to.”
Richard smiled again.
“Assuming you find him.”
That sentence hung between them.
Detective Ellis noticed.
“So you believe he’s missing?”
Richard shrugged.
“Apparently.”
“We never told you that.”
Camille looked at her father.
“Dad.”
Richard’s eyes shifted.
Detective Ellis stepped forward.
“Mr. Prescott, I’d like you to stay.”
“I am leaving.”
“No.”
Richard’s attorneys began talking at once.
Then every light in Alderwyn went out.
Darkness swallowed the ballroom.
Someone screamed.
Emergency lamps should have activated.
They did not.
Daniel shouted.
“Everybody stay down!”
Julian reached for Nora.
His hand found empty air.
“Nora?”
No answer.
“Nora!”
A crash sounded upstairs.
Then footsteps.
Running.
Julian moved toward the staircase.
Daniel grabbed his arm.
“Sir!”
“She’s gone!”
Lightning flashed through the windows.
For one second the staircase appeared in white-blue light.
A figure in a black coat was dragging Nora toward the west corridor.
Julian ran.
Behind him Detective Ellis shouted for officers.
The figure shoved Nora through a door.
Julian followed.
Rain hit his face.
The west balcony.
The same balcony.
Nora struggled against the attacker.
A gloved hand covered her mouth.
Julian saw a gun.
“Let her go!”
The attacker turned.
Nora drove her heel backward.
The man stumbled.
The gun fired.
Stone shattered beside Julian’s head.
Nora ran.
The attacker grabbed her dress.
Fabric ripped.
She fell against the railing.
The old stone cracked.
Nora screamed.
Half the balustrade collapsed.
She disappeared.
Julian lunged.
His knees struck wet stone.
His hand closed around Nora’s wrist.
She hung thirty feet above the garden.
Rain poured over her face.
“Don’t let go!”
“I won’t.”
The attacker raised the gun.
Julian saw him.
Nora saw him too.
“Behind you!”
Before the man could fire, Daniel crashed into him.
The weapon slid across the balcony.
Detective Ellis and two officers arrived.
The attacker fought like someone trained.
He struck one officer.
Kicked another.
Then vaulted over the broken section of railing onto a lower roof.
Daniel looked over.
“He’s running toward the conservatory!”
“Go!” Ellis shouted.
Julian heard none of it clearly.
Nora’s fingers were slipping.
“Look at me.”
She was sobbing.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“My hand—”
“I have you.”
The words struck him.
Eighteen years earlier, no one had been there to say them to Helena.
He tightened his grip.
“Give me your other hand.”
Nora reached.
Julian caught it.
An officer helped pull her onto the balcony.
She collapsed against Julian.
For several seconds neither moved.
Then Nora whispered something.
“What?”
Julian asked.
“The voice.”
“What voice?”
“The man who attacked me.”
“You recognized him?”
“No.”
She shook violently.
“But he said something before you came.”
“What?”
Nora looked toward the broken railing.
“He said, ‘This family should have let you fall the first time.’”
Julian froze.
“The first time?”
Nora nodded.
And suddenly the memory returned.
Six years old.
Rain.
A dark balcony.
Helena arguing.
Nora hiding.
Then somebody grabbing her from behind.
A woman screaming.
Nora being lifted over the railing.
Small shoes kicking above empty air.
Helena shouting.
Put her down!
Nora’s face went white.
“Oh my God.”
Julian held her shoulders.
“What?”
She stared at him.
“Your mother didn’t fall because she was trying to save herself.”
May you like
The rain seemed to stop.
“She fell,” Nora whispered, “because she was trying to save me.”
