Chapter 5 - THE MESSAGE IN THE PARKING GARAGE
Police separated everyone before questioning. Alexander protested until an officer informed him that he was not under arrest but was free to leave only after surrendering his guest access badge and agreeing not to approach Isabella. He chose to stay. Gabriel understood why. Leaving would look like guilt, and Alexander Grant had built his entire life on appearances. He sat in an adjoining conference room with two attorneys who arrived faster than most ambulances, while Isabella gave her statement under the steady hum of recessed lights.
Nolan Price refused to speak. The syringe found in his jacket contained a sedative commonly used in clinical settings. It was not illegal for him to possess under every circumstance, but he had no prescription and no medical role. More disturbing was the printed schedule in his bag: Isabella’s obstetric appointments for the previous six weeks, including notes about which visits she attended alone. Someone had accessed private health information. Police seized his devices and requested warrants for additional records.
The threat message had come from a prepaid phone found in a trash receptacle near the service elevator. At 10:42 p.m., another message arrived. This one went to Celeste. A photograph appeared on her screen showing Isabella being escorted from the library toward a smaller conference room. Beneath it were six words:
SHE DOESN’T MAKE IT TO MONDAY. Celeste’s face drained. Gabriel immediately ordered Isabella moved to the hotel’s residential security floor, accessible only through a key-coded elevator. Police objected until he offered the entire floor for interviews and allowed them to station officers at both access points. Isabella was exhausted, frightened, and increasingly angry at being treated like cargo. She stopped in the corridor and faced Gabriel.
“I spent four months being told where to go, who to call, what not to say, when to rest, and how to disappear quietly,” she said. “I am not spending tonight locked in a room while men decide what happens to me.” Gabriel did not argue. “Then help decide.”
The answer surprised her. He spread a floor plan over a console table. “There are three secure exits. Police want you moved before midnight. My preference is the east garage because it is enclosed and controlled. But the message suggests whoever sent it may expect a transfer. If you stay, we can secure the floor. If you leave, we can use a decoy vehicle.”
Isabella looked at the map. “What would you do if I were your sister?” He glanced toward Celeste. “I’d ask her what she wanted, then make the safest version of that choice possible.” Celeste crossed her arms. “For the record, I would complain the entire time.”
The remark was so ordinary that Isabella laughed despite herself. The sound broke the tension for half a second, and something shifted between the two women. Not friendship yet. Not forgiveness for circumstances neither had created. But recognition. They decided to leave the hotel at eleven-thirty in two vehicles. Celeste would depart visibly from the main entrance with police nearby, drawing cameras and attention. Isabella would leave through the east garage in Gabriel’s armored SUV with Ward and an officer. Her attorney, Mara Chen, was on the way to a secure apartment in Brooklyn.
The plan lasted twelve minutes. As Isabella waited in a service corridor near the east elevator, the fire alarm activated. Red strobes flashed. Doors unlocked automatically. The elevator shut down. Ward swore. Over the emergency speaker, a calm recorded voice instructed guests to use the stairs.
“This is not a coincidence,” Isabella said. Smoke began seeping under a door twenty yards away. Ward radioed command, but the channel filled with static. Gabriel, who had stayed behind to coordinate the decoy, appeared from the stairwell at a run. “Kitchen fire on thirty-one. Suppression system triggered. It could be real.”
“Or designed to open every emergency door in the building,” Ward said. They moved toward a protected stairwell. Isabella’s belly tightened painfully. She stopped. Gabriel looked at her. “Contraction,” she said. “I’m fine. Just give me a second.” Footsteps echoed from below. Too fast. Ward drew her weapon.
A man in a maintenance jacket came around the landing carrying a medical bag. He saw them and turned instantly. “Stop!” the police officer shouted. The man ran. Gabriel chased him down two flights before tackling him near the twenty-eighth-floor door. The maintenance cap fell away.
It was Nolan Price. He had escaped custody during the alarm after claiming chest pain and overpowering a transport officer in the confusion. Gabriel pinned him against the concrete landing until police arrived. Nolan laughed once, breathless and bitter. “You think I planned this?” Gabriel tightened his grip. “Who did?”
Nolan looked past him toward Isabella, visible several steps above. “Ask her dead father.” Isabella went cold. “What did you say?” she whispered. Nolan’s expression changed as if he regretted the words. Gabriel dragged him upright. “Say it again.” Nolan shook his head. Isabella descended one step. “My father died of a stroke.”
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Nolan closed his eyes. “That’s what the report said.” The stairwell went silent except for the alarm. Isabella felt the baby move again, strong and sudden. “What do you mean,” she said, “that’s what the report said?” Nolan opened his eyes and looked at her with the weary fear of a man who knew he had become expendable.
“Thomas Reed found out what Pierce was doing,” he said. “He was going to the board.” Isabella gripped the railing. “And three days later,” Nolan continued, “he was dead.” Before anyone could ask another question, a gunshot cracked somewhere below them. Concrete burst from the wall beside Nolan’s shoulder. Someone else was in the stairwell.
