Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Saw EverythingRose Bennett spent the next four hours answering questions.
At 11:40 p.m., she was still inside a private conference room on the seventy-ninth floor of the hotel.
Her black-and-white service uniform was stained with champagne and blood.
Her bandaged palms throbbed.
Detective Lena Torres sat across from her.
“Start again from the moment you approached the railing.”
Rose tried not to sound frustrated.
“I’ve told you three times.”
“I know.”
“Mrs. Callaway was speaking with Victoria.”
“What did you hear?”
“Not much.”
“Anything matters.”
Rose closed her eyes.
The rooftop had been noisy.
Music.
Glasses.
Guests.
Wind.
But she remembered one line.
Eleanor had said:
“You should have told Nathaniel before today.”
Torres wrote it down.
“And Victoria?”
“I couldn’t hear everything.”
“Anything?”
Rose hesitated.
“She said something about a signature.”
“What exactly?”
“I think she said, ‘You had no right to question the signature.’”
Torres looked up.
“You think?”
“I’m not going to pretend certainty because the family is rich.”
That earned the faintest smile.
“Good.”
Rose continued.
“Then Mrs. Callaway said, ‘You forged it.’”
Torres stopped writing.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“What happened next?”
“I turned because somebody asked me for champagne.”
“And then?”
“When I looked back, Victoria pushed her.”
“With one hand?”
“Two.”
“Could she have been trying to catch her?”
“No.”
Rose answered immediately.
“I saw the movement.”
Torres studied her.
“You understand how serious that statement is.”
“Yes.”
“Victoria Callaway’s attorneys will attack your credibility.”
Rose leaned back.
“They can attack whatever they want.”
“You have anything that could make you vulnerable?”
Rose almost laughed.
“Everyone does.”
“Anything relevant?”
“No criminal record. No lawsuit against the Callaways. No personal relationship with them.”
“Financial problems?”
Rose stared.
“What does that have to do with whether I saw a woman push somebody?”
“It has to do with what defense attorneys may say.”
Rose’s jaw tightened.
She had sixty-one thousand dollars in student loans.
Her mother had undergone kidney surgery two years earlier.
Rose worked luxury banquets five nights a week and studied hospitality management online.
Was being poor evidence now?
“I owe money,” she said.
“Most Americans do.”
“Anything else?”
“My rent is late sometimes.”
Torres nodded.
“Thank you.”
Rose looked toward the window.
“Is Mrs. Callaway okay?”
“She’s at Mount Sinai.”
“And Nathaniel?”
“With her.”
Rose nodded.
She wished she could go home.
Then Torres placed a photograph on the table.
It showed Adrian Cross.
White.
Forty-eight.
Silver at his temples.
Tailored tuxedo.
Rose recognized him immediately.
“He was at the wedding.”
“Of course. He’s CFO.”
“No.”
Rose pointed.
“I mean I saw him near the service corridor after the push.”
Torres leaned forward.
“When?”
“Maybe two minutes after security closed the rooftop.”
“Doing what?”
“Talking to somebody.”
“Who?”
Rose thought.
“A hotel employee.”
“Can you describe them?”
“Male. Tall. Security uniform.”
“Grant Mercer?”
“No.”
Rose had met Grant during staff briefing.
“Different man.”
Torres made another note.
“Anything else?”
“He gave Adrian something.”
“What?”
“Small. Maybe a card or drive.”
“A phone?”
“No.”
Rose frowned.
“Something blue.”
Torres stopped.
“Blue?”
Rose looked at her.
The missing folder.
“I didn’t make that connection.”
“Are you sure about the color?”
“Yes.”
Torres stood.
“Stay here.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“No.”
“Then I’m leaving.”
Torres paused at the door.
“I would recommend you wait ten minutes.”
Rose folded her arms.
“Five.”
Across Manhattan, Nathaniel sat beside his mother’s hospital bed.
Eleanor’s left shoulder had been dislocated.
Three ribs were bruised.
Her skin was torn along one forearm.
Nathaniel had never seen his mother look small.
Eleanor Callaway had buried a husband, built a fortune with him, survived hostile takeovers, cancer, and two decades of reporters calling her intimidating.
Tonight she looked seventy.
Nathaniel held her hand.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted proof.”
“You had proof.”
“I had questions.”
“A blue folder was enough for Victoria to try killing you.”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
“That wasn’t my intention.”
Nathaniel stood.
“Your intention?”
“I didn’t want your wedding destroyed by an accusation I couldn’t prove.”
He laughed bitterly.
“Excellent strategy.”
“Nathaniel.”
“You knew something was wrong with the woman I was marrying.”
“I knew something was wrong with the accounts.”
“And Victoria?”
“I suspected.”
“For how long?”
Eleanor hesitated.
Nathaniel stared.
“How long?”
“Six weeks.”
He walked toward the window.
Manhattan glittered below.
His wedding reception was probably still being dismantled.
Six weeks.
His mother had watched him plan vows while suspecting his fiancée of financial misconduct.
“You should have told me.”
“I know.”
“That’s not enough.”
“I know.”
He turned.
“What signature was forged?”
Eleanor looked surprised.
“Who told you?”
“Rose heard you.”
Eleanor stared at him.
“The Callaway Family Trust has three independent protections around voting shares.”
“I know.”
“One document was filed last month adding Victoria as an emergency spousal representative if I became incapacitated.”
Nathaniel frowned.
“I never approved that.”
“Neither did I.”
His blood chilled.
“My signature?”
“No.”
“Whose?”
“Mine.”
Silence.
Eleanor continued.
“Someone forged my authorization.”
“Why would Victoria need that?”
“She wouldn’t control the trust.”
“But?”
“She could obtain access to confidential trustee meetings and emergency financial decisions.”
Nathaniel understood.
Information.
Influence.
Leverage.
He thought of Adrian Cross.
“Was Adrian involved?”
“I found payments from vendors he approved to a foundation linked to Victoria.”
“How much?”
“At least nine million.”
Nathaniel sat.
Nine million dollars was not large inside Callaway Holdings.
That was precisely why someone could hide it.
His phone rang.
Grant Mercer.
Nathaniel answered.
“Tell me.”
Grant sounded grim.
“We checked the rooftop security archive.”
“And?”
“We have a problem.”
“What?”
“The main camera covering the railing went offline.”
Nathaniel closed his eyes.
“For how long?”
“Four minutes and twenty-two seconds.”
“When?”
Grant answered.
“Starting ninety seconds before Victoria pushed your mother.”
Nathaniel stood.
“Technical failure?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“The feed was manually looped.”
“By who?”
“We’re tracing access.”
Nathaniel looked at Eleanor.
Grant continued.
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“The credential used to enter the camera system belonged to my deputy security director.”
Nathaniel knew the man.
“Luke Fenner?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
A pause.
“We can’t find him.”
Nathaniel’s voice hardened.
“Find him.”
Grant replied:
“We’re trying.”
Then added:
“And Nathaniel—Rose saw Adrian near the service corridor.”
Nathaniel looked at his wedding ring again.
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The bride might have pushed his mother.
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