Chapter 8 - THE WAITER WHO STAYED
Julian pulled his shirt over his nose.
“Get low.”
Serena dropped to the floor.
The chemical odor grew stronger.
Julian swept the flashlight across the walls.
Old bank vaults were designed to keep people out, but safety codes required emergency ventilation after several historic deaths.
The system had to connect somewhere.
He found a narrow maintenance grille near the floor.
The screws had been recently replaced.
“Help me pull.”
They worked until Serena’s nails broke and Julian’s fingers bled.
The grille finally bent away.
Behind it was a passage barely wide enough for a person.
“You first,” Julian said.
Serena shook her head.
“You’ll pass out.”
“Go.”
She crawled into the darkness.
Julian followed as his vision began narrowing.
Halfway through, the passage ended at another metal panel.
Serena kicked it.
Nothing moved.
Then someone struck the other side.
“Mr. Cross?” Noah shouted.
Julian forced out an answer.
Noah used a fire axe to break through.
Fresh air rushed into the passage.
He dragged Serena out, then Julian.
Detective Ortiz and two officers entered the basement seconds later.
“Pike locked the service hall and tried to leave through the kitchen,” Noah said. “I followed him.”
Ortiz looked at the young waiter.
“You could have gotten hurt.”
Noah shrugged, still breathing hard.
“He told me people like me were replaceable. I wanted him to be wrong once.”
Pike was brought downstairs in handcuffs.
Julian pushed himself upright.
“Where is Graham?”
Pike looked toward Serena.
“You think her brother is the one in charge?”
Serena went still.
Pike laughed bitterly.
“Graham built the plan. Someone else paid for it.”
“Who?” Julian demanded.
Pike nodded toward the boxes of surveillance photographs.
Ortiz opened one marked PRIVATE FAMILY.
Inside were photographs of Julian’s late father meeting a woman outside a courthouse.
On the back of the newest photograph was a handwritten name.
Evelyn Cross.
May you like
Julian’s mother.
The woman who had supposedly been dead for eleven years.
