Chapter 3 - THE SECURITY ROOM
Vance’s face went from pale to ghostly white. His hands trembled so violently he almost dropped the desk telephone as he dialed the security extension.
Danielle stood frozen on the marble floor, her jaw slightly open, her blue eyes wide with shock.
“Cole...” she stammered, stepping forward. “I... I didn't know... you didn't tell me you were wearing...”
Cole didn't answer her. He turned his back on his fiancée, carrying Lily toward the private elevator behind the reception desk that led directly to the executive suite.
Ninety seconds later, the private security office on the mezzanine floor was locked tight.
Marcus Kane, the head of hotel security—a broad-shouldered former Chicago police detective who had known Cole’s father for twenty years—stood beside the monitor desk.
Lily sat on a plush leather sofa, eating an apple slice that Marcus’s assistant had brought her, her small hand still clutching her stuffed rabbit.
Cole stood over the desk where Marcus was pulling up the footage from the service entrance cameras.
“Show me 5:00 PM to 7:00 PM,” Cole commanded, his voice cold.
On the high-definition screen, the side service stairwell appeared in crisp detail.
At 5:12 PM, the steel door opened. Maria Delgado stepped out onto the concrete landing, wearing her blue housekeeping uniform. She looked exhausted, her hair coming loose from its bun. Behind her came Lily, holding her mother’s apron.
Maria sat Lily down on the third step, wrapping her red coat tightly around her, handing her the stuffed rabbit. Maria kissed her forehead, spoke to her gently, and then stepped back inside, letting the steel door click shut behind her.
“Why did she leave the girl there?” Cole asked, his brows furrowing.
“Keep watching, boss,” Marcus said grimly.
At 5:28 PM, a man walked down the stairwell from the street.
He wore a tailored dark suit, expensive Italian leather shoes, and had slicked-back dark hair. He was in his late thirties, possessing the smug, comfortable posture of a man who owned people.
Cole’s eyes narrowed into slits.
Julian Croft.
The vice president of regional operations for the Merritt Hotel Group. A man Cole had hired three years ago to oversee commercial leases and corporate vendor contracts across the Midwest.
On the monitor, Croft walked down the steps, stopping beside Maria, who had stepped back out onto the landing holding a clipboard.
They spoke for three minutes. Maria’s body language was stiff, her hands clutching the clipboard against her chest. Croft stepped closer, his hand reaching out to grab her arm firmly. Maria pulled back sharply, pointing toward the security camera.
Croft laughed—a silent, cruel sneer on the footage.
He leaned in close to her face, said something that made Maria turn deathly pale, and then grabbed her clipboard, ripping a sheet of paper from it before throwing the rest down the stairs.
Then Croft walked back up the steps, pulling a thick envelope from his breast pocket and tossing it onto the concrete near Lily’s feet before disappearing into the street.
Three minutes later, two security guards who reported directly to Vance walked down the steps, grabbed Maria by the arms, and escorted her out toward the street, locking the door behind them.
Cole stared at the screen, his blood running cold.
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“Where is Maria now?” Cole demanded, his baritone voice trembling with suppressed rage.
“We tracked her phone,” Marcus reported, clicking a file on his laptop. “She’s at the precinct station on 12th Street. She was arrested thirty minutes ago... for grand theft.”
