Chapter 16 - The Wedding That Wasn’t
Saturday morning arrived beneath perfect blue skies.
The Vale estate looked beautiful.
That felt obscene.
White roses lined the chapel steps.
Music drifted through open windows.
Catering trucks entered the service gate.
Florists carried arrangements.
Guests were told the ceremony had been delayed because of Evelyn’s health.
Only a small inner circle was expected.
That was the cover.
Police officers posed as servers.
Federal agents posed as security.
Brooks wore a black dress and looked deeply irritated about it.
Naomi wore her normal uniform.
Brooks objected.
Naomi refused to change.
“If someone is watching, I look wrong in a gown.”
“You look like bait in a uniform.”
“I am bait.”
Brooks sighed.
“I hate when you say that.”
Adrian stood inside the chapel.
No tuxedo.
Dark suit.
No boutonniere.
No smile.
He looked at the empty altar.
The wedding arch stood behind it.
White roses.
Greenery.
Gold framework.
Inside the left column, behind decorative ivy, rested the recorder Celeste had described.
Police had verified it at dawn.
They did not remove it.
Instead, they duplicated the contents remotely.
The recording was damning.
Theodore’s voice.
Marcus’s.
A conversation from two years earlier.
Theodore saying Arthur Crane should have been “finished properly the first time.”
Marcus promising he would handle Evelyn next.
Enough to transform the case.
Enough to destroy the remaining legal defenses.
Enough to motivate anyone still loyal to Marcus to steal it.
At 9:13 a.m., the first suspicious van arrived.
Legitimate florist.
At 9:27, another.
Legitimate catering.
At 9:41, a black Mercedes entered.
Peter Vale sat inside.
Adrian watched through a concealed monitor.
“Peter.”
Naomi stood beside him.
“Is that bad?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He told me he was in London.”
Peter exited.
Thirty-six.
Lean.
Gray suit.
He walked with none of the arrogance Marcus carried.
That made Naomi trust him less.
Brooks approached outside.
“Mr. Vale.”
Peter smiled.
“Detective.”
“You know who I am?”
“Hard not to.”
He looked toward the chapel.
“I came for Adrian.”
“Wedding’s delayed.”
“I heard.”
Brooks did not move.
Peter’s smile faded.
“Am I not allowed inside?”
“You are.”
She stepped aside.
Peter entered.
Adrian met him halfway.
“What are you doing here?”
Peter embraced him.
Adrian barely returned it.
“I heard Aunt Evelyn was attacked.”
“Two days ago.”
“I was traveling.”
“From London?”
“Yes.”
Naomi watched his shoes.
Dry.
But the estate gravel was wet from sprinklers.
He had entered through the front path.
Should be damp.
Unless he had changed shoes.
Or been inside already.
Naomi looked toward Brooks.
Then toward Peter’s left cuff.
A trace of white pollen.
Roses.
The chapel flowers had arrived that morning.
Peter had handled them.
But why?
Naomi stepped closer.
“Mr. Vale.”
He turned.
“Naomi.”
“You got pollen on your sleeve.”
Peter looked down.
“Occupational hazard at a wedding.”
“You came through the side garden?”
“No.”
“Then where did you touch flowers?”
His expression changed.
Tiny.
Brooks saw it.
Peter laughed.
“I hugged a florist outside.”
Naomi looked through the chapel doors.
No florist stood near the entrance.
Peter’s eyes hardened.
“Are we doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Pretending you’re a detective now?”
Naomi smiled.
“No.”
She glanced toward Brooks.
“She is.”
Peter turned.
Brooks had already moved closer.
“Mr. Vale, can I see what’s in your jacket?”
Peter sighed.
“No.”
“Then don’t move.”
His face changed.
He reached inside.
Brooks moved.
Peter threw a small metal cylinder.
Smoke exploded.
The chapel filled instantly.
Naomi heard Adrian shout.
Guests screamed outside.
Police moved.
Naomi dropped low.
Through the smoke, footsteps raced toward the altar.
The arch.
Naomi crawled.
A shadow reached the left column.
Peter.
He tore away the ivy.
Reached inside.
Found the recorder.
Then Naomi spoke from behind him.
“That one is fake.”
Peter froze.
The smoke thinned.
He turned.
Naomi held up another recorder.
His face changed.
“You really are annoying.”
“I’ve been told.”
He lunged.
Naomi stepped back.
Brooks appeared.
Weapon raised.
“Stop.”
Peter stopped.
Then smiled.
“You think I came alone?”
The chapel doors slammed.
Outside, engines roared.
Three catering trucks moved simultaneously.
Not away.
Sideways.
Blocking police vehicles.
Brooks cursed.
Men in catering uniforms ran toward the chapel.
Security contractors.
Marcus’s people.
Federal agents intercepted them.
Chaos erupted across the courtyard.
Naomi looked toward Peter.
He moved again.
Adrian tackled him.
They crashed into the front pew.
Brooks ran toward the doors.
Naomi grabbed the real recorder.
She had to secure it.
Peter kicked Adrian away.
Reached under his ankle.
Pulled a compact pistol.
Naomi froze.
Adrian did too.
Peter aimed at Naomi.
“Give it.”
Adrian moved between them.
Peter’s face tightened.
“Move.”
“No.”
“Adrian.”
“You won’t shoot me.”
Peter smiled sadly.
“You really did inherit Aunt Evelyn’s worst habit.”
“What?”
“Thinking family means safety.”
He fired.
The bullet struck the wooden pew beside Adrian.
Adrian ducked.
Naomi ran toward the sacristy.
Peter chased.
She entered.
Locked the door.
Then realized.
No second exit.
Again.
Locked room.
Someone outside trying to reach her.
Naomi looked around.
Vestment cabinet.
Sink.
Small stained-glass window.
Too narrow.
Peter hit the door.
“Naomi.”
She looked at the recorder.
The evidence could be copied.
Brooks already had it.
Peter did not know.
Naomi placed it inside the sink.
Turned on the water.
Peter shouted.
“What are you doing?”
Naomi smiled despite herself.
He could hear the water.
“Naomi!”
She picked up a brass candle holder.
The door splintered.
Peter entered.
Gun raised.
“Where is it?”
Naomi pointed toward the sink.
Water poured over the recorder.
Peter swore.
He ran toward it.
Naomi swung the candle holder into his wrist.
The pistol dropped.
Peter grabbed Naomi.
They struggled.
He slammed her against the cabinet.
Pain exploded through her shoulder.
Then Adrian entered.
He hit Peter once.
Peter fell.
Brooks arrived seconds later.
Handcuffed him.
Naomi leaned against the wall.
Adrian looked at her.
“You okay?”
“No.”
He almost laughed.
Outside, gunfire stopped.
The security contractors surrendered.
Police regained the courtyard.
Peter Vale was arrested.
The recorder sat ruined in the sink.
Peter looked at it and smiled.
“Marcus will appreciate that.”
Brooks smiled back.
“What?”
Peter frowned.
“The recording was copied at six this morning.”
His face went blank.
Naomi turned off the water.
Peter stared at her.
“You destroyed a decoy?”
Naomi nodded.
Peter laughed once.
Then shook his head.
“I hate this house.”
Adrian almost smiled.
The situation appeared contained.
Until Raymond ran inside.
“Adrian.”
“What?”
Raymond’s face was white.
“Evelyn is missing.”
Naomi closed her eyes.
“Again?”
“No.”
Raymond swallowed.
“This time she didn’t leave voluntarily.”
A security guard had been found restrained in the north greenhouse.
Evelyn’s wheelchair was nearby.
And on the greenhouse glass, someone had written a message in red lipstick.
BRING THE BRIDE.
Naomi stared.
Only one person called Celeste that now.
Marcus.
But Marcus was supposed to be in custody.
Brooks checked her phone.
Then cursed.
Marcus’s transport vehicle had been attacked thirty minutes earlier.
Two officers injured.
Marcus gone.
Naomi looked at Adrian.
The wedding was not the trap.
It was the distraction.
Marcus had used Peter to pull security toward the chapel.
May you like
And while everyone watched the altar, he had taken Evelyn.
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