“The killer planned this.”Marsh flipped through her notes, reading from a page I couldn’t see.“The security cameras covering that corridor and the storage area had been malfunctioning for three days prior.We checked the maintenance logs and interviewed the technicians.The cameras weren’t broken.They were deliberately disabled by someone who knew exactly which feeds to target and how to make it look like a technical failure.”
“Who has access to the security systems?”Her partner finally spoke.He was young, with an earnest face that hadn’t yet learned to hide what he was thinking.The kind of cop who probably still believed in justice and truth and the basic goodness of people.
Michael pulled out his tablet, already scrolling through files.“Maintenance staff have physical access to the camera housings.Security team members have access to the monitoring software.Upper management can override certain functions.”He tapped a few times, then turned the screen toward the detectives.“I can send you a complete list of everyone with credentials, along with their schedules for the past two weeks.”
“Please do.”
“Ms.Hughes.”Marsh turned her attention to me, her sharp eyes assessing.“We’re pursuing several investigative angles, including the possibility of organized crime involvement.Your husband’s associates have come up in our preliminary inquiries.”
Of course they had.Raphael’s security team moved through the hotel with their earpieces and coordinated precision, and his Russian contacts had visited in their expensive suits, their eyes cold and assessing.From the outside, it probably looked exactly like the mob had moved in.
“My husband’s security team was hired to protect the hotel after the previous incidents,” I said carefully.“They’ve been cooperating fully with your investigation.”
“So I’ve noticed.”Marsh’s tone was neutral, but doubt surfaced in her expression.Skepticism, maybe.Or professional wariness about wealthy people who thought their money placed them above the law.“Four incidents since the beginning of the year, each one worse than the last.That’s quite a pattern of escalation, Ms.Hughes.”
“Stephanie had been here for thirty-three years.”I kept my voice steady.“Whatever’s happening at this hotel, it started long before my marriage.”
Marsh wrote something in her notebook, the pen scratching across the paper.“We’re looking into all possibilities.In the meantime, I would strongly recommend additional security measures.Whatever’s happening here isn’t random.Whoever did this knew the hotel layout intimately.Knew the victim well enough to arrange a private meeting.Knew exactly how to avoid detection.”
Someone inside.
“We’ll be in touch as the investigation develops,” Marsh said, rising from her chair.“Don’t leave town, Ms.Hughes.We may have additional questions.”
I didn’t bother pointing out that I lived here now.That this hotel was my entire world.That leaving wasn’t an option, even if I had wanted to.
The drive home was silent.
I sat in the back seat of the car and watched Paradise Peaks scroll past the tinted windows.Cute shops with artisanal signs drifted by, then tourists in expensive hiking gear, then normal people living normal lives, completely unaware that someone in my hotel had killed a woman who had been kind to me.I hadn’t seen it coming.
My hands were shaking again.I pressed them flat against my thighs and focused on breathing.In through the nose.Out through the mouth.The way Sophie had taught me during one of our spa sessions, back when my biggest problem was learning to manage my father’s expectations.
Someone inside.Someone Stephanie trusted.Someone who had planned this for days, disabling cameras, waiting for the perfect moment, feeding her blood through my fountain before leaving her body to be found.Someone who wanted me afraid.
They were succeeding.
The manor appeared through the trees, stone and shadow and iron gates that should have been a prison.I waited for the familiar wave of resentment at the sight of it.
It didn’t come.
Instead, when I saw his car in the driveway, my shoulders relaxed.Relief.Real and impossible to deny and completely irrational.He was home.He was here.And somewhere in the chaos of the past two days, that had started to feel like safety.
My body had already made its decision.I could feel it in the warmth gathering low in my belly, the way my breath quickened at the thought of being near him.Eight weeks of hating this man, and my body still craved him like he was the only cure for what ailed me.
I didn’t want to examine it.
I went upstairs without seeing Alice or anyone else.Showered until the water ran cold, scrubbing my skin raw, trying to wash off the day.Tried to eat the dinner Alice left at my bedside, but my stomach rebelled at the sight of food.The roast chicken sat untouched, congealing in its own gravy, while I paced my room and listened to the manor settle around me.
I could hear him moving below.His study door.The hallway.Then his footsteps stopped, and the manor went quiet in that particular way it did when he was standing still, listening, deciding.
The first stair didn’t creak.Neither did the second.
I told myself I was relieved.Told myself I needed space to process everything.Told myself that last night had been a mistake, a moment of weakness, something that wouldn’t happen again.
The lies tasted bitter on my tongue.
I lay in my bed and stared at the ceiling, waiting for sleep that wouldn’t come.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Stephanie’s wilting roses.The red water in the fountain.
The fear crawled under my skin, into my bones, wrapping around my chest until I couldn’t breathe.
