Chapter 5 - Whispers in the Coat
The damp night air bit through Clara’s velvet sleeves as she hurried down the granite steps of the venue. The flashing red and blue lights of the police cruisers painted the limestone facade in rhythmic pulses of crimson and sapphire. Marcus followed closely behind, his long coat sweeping around his legs.
""Clara, wait,"" Marcus called out, catching up to her near the fountain. ""We need your official statement at the precinct. If we want the magistrate to deny Julian bail, we need your deposition filed before sunrise.""
Clara stopped under the amber glow of a streetlamp. Her heart was hammering against her ribs, the mysterious text message burning in her mind. Slowly, shielding the action with her body, she reached into the small, satin-lined pocket of Lily’s ivory wool dress coat. Her fingertips brushed against a cold, hard rectangle of metal.
It was a micro flash drive, no larger than a postage stamp.
Someone had slipped it into Lily’s pocket during the chaotic scramble inside the hall. Julian couldn't have done it; he had only touched the flower basket. That meant someone else was orchestrating events from the shadows.
""Clara?"" Marcus asked, his brow furrowing as he noticed her hesitation. ""Are you alright? You're shaking.""
""I... I just need to get Lily out of here, Marcus,"" Clara lied smoothly, closing her hand around the drive and sliding it deep into her purse. ""Look at her. She’s terrified. Let me take her home, settle her in bed, and I’ll come down to the station.""
Marcus stared at her, his keen detective’s eyes searching her face. He had always been perceptive, the only Vance who preferred raw truth over gilded illusions. For a second, Clara feared he would ask to see what was in her pocket.
""Julian’s lawyers are already mobilizing,"" Marcus said quietly, lowering his voice so the nearby beat cops couldn't hear. ""Eleanor has half the district judges on retainer. If you don't secure your deposition with me tonight, they will manufacture a story claiming you orchestrated the camera footage to extort Julian.""
""They can try,"" Clara said, her voice turning cold. ""The footage doesn't lie.""
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""Footage can be suppressed, Clara. Especially when millions of dollars are on the line,"" Marcus warned. He glanced over his shoulder at the cruisers preparing to depart. ""Take Lily home. I’ll post a patrol car outside your apartment for protection. But keep your doors locked. Eleanor won't let tonight slide.""
Clara nodded, thanking him before hailing a waiting black cab. As the taxi pulled away from the curb, Clara peered through the tinted rear window. Standing beneath the shadows of the ballroom's marble portico was a figure dressed in dark livery—Eleanor’s personal chauffeur, holding a phone to his ear and watching their taxi merge into traffic.
