Chapter 2 - THE CHAPEL BELOW
The stair beneath the nursery narrowed until Manuel had to turn his shoulders sideways.
Rosalie moved ahead of him now because she knew where the steps changed height.
The wedding gown dragged behind her like a pale shadow.
Above them, Emmett’s security men forced open the nursery passage.
Below them, someone had already locked the chapel exit.
Manuel held the phone close to his chest so Maya could hear without letting the light reveal them through any cracks in the wall.
“Tell me there is another door,” he whispered.
“There was a coal chute,” Rosalie said.
“Was?”
“My father sealed it after I tried to use it.”
“When?”
“I was sixteen.”
She gave no further explanation.
The stair ended behind a heavy curtain of rotted velvet.
Rosalie pushed it aside.
They stepped into a low chamber beneath the estate chapel.
Stone arches crossed the ceiling.
Rows of wine racks had been built into one wall, though most of the bottles were covered in enough dust to look gray.
The opposite wall held a brass-bound door with a wheel-shaped handle.
Manuel tried it.
The wheel moved half an inch and stopped.
“Locked from outside,” he said.
Rosalie walked toward a narrow altar at the end of the room.
It was not a religious altar in any formal sense.
It looked more like a private memorial.
A faded photograph of Lorelei stood behind two unlit candles.
Fresh white roses lay beneath it.
Manuel looked at the flowers.
“These were cut tonight.”
Rosalie touched one of the stems.
“My father comes here every year on the anniversary of her death.”
“Does he mourn her?”
“No.”
Her answer came too quickly to be uncertain.
“He reminds himself that he won.”
Maya exhaled through the phone.
“Search the memorial.”
“Lorelei’s note said the chapel remembers.”
Manuel examined the picture frame.
The photograph showed Lorelei on the south lawn of Pinecrest, younger than Rosalie was now, wearing the same ivory gown.
Emmett stood beside her with one hand at her waist.
His smile looked practiced.
Lorelei was not looking at the camera.
She was looking toward a man partly cropped from the edge of the frame.
Only his shoulder and one hand remained visible.
The hand wore a heavy square ring with the initials T.N.
Manuel’s chest tightened.
He knew that ring.
It had belonged to his father.
“What is it?” Rosalie asked.
He removed the photograph from the frame.
“My father was at their wedding.”
“He built this house,” Rosalie said.
“No.”
“Nelson Construction restored the east wing twenty-eight years ago.”
“My father told me he did not meet Emmett until ten years later.”
Maya’s voice sharpened.
“Send me a picture.”
Manuel photographed the image and texted it.
Before Maya could respond, footsteps crossed the chapel floor above them.
A man spoke near the altar overhead.
“Mr. Durham, the ballroom guests are asking questions.”
Manuel recognized Caleb Mercer, his best man.
Caleb had been his closest friend since college and the chief financial officer of Nelson Construction for seven years.
He had stood beside Manuel at the altar three hours earlier.
Emmett answered him.
“Tell them Rosalie had a private medical episode.”
“And Manuel?”
“Tell them he is staying with his wife.”
Caleb hesitated.
“His mother is threatening to call the governor.”
“Veronica threatens everyone before she decides what benefits her.”
A glass clicked against stone above.
Emmett was pouring himself a drink in the chapel while men searched for his daughter beneath it.
Caleb lowered his voice.
“You said there would be no scene.”
“There will be no scene if you do what I paid you to do.”
Manuel felt the words like a physical blow.
Rosalie looked at him.
He raised one finger, asking her to remain silent.
Caleb spoke again.
“I never agreed to hurt her.”
“You agreed to delay Manuel’s access to the company records until Monday.”
“You agreed to make certain he signed the marital guaranty.”
“You agreed to keep him occupied while Dr. Voss completed the certification.”
“Do not become moral at the least useful moment.”
The chapel above went quiet.
Manuel stared at the dark phone screen.
Caleb had reviewed every page of the wedding contracts.
He had told Manuel the guaranty was routine.
He had toasted him an hour before the ceremony and promised that nothing in the merger could touch the Nelson family’s voting control.
Rosalie’s voice was almost soundless.
“He works for my father.”
“So it seems.”
Maya had heard everything.
“Record the rest if you can,” she whispered.
Manuel opened the audio recorder on his phone.
Emmett’s shoes moved across the chapel.
“There is something else,” Caleb said.
“Manuel received a message before the reception.”
“From whom?”
“I could not see the name.”
“Find out.”
“You told me his phone would be collected at dinner.”
“It was supposed to be.”
Manuel glanced toward Rosalie.
Her expression told him she understood the danger to Maya.
Emmett continued.
“Lock the lower tunnel.”
“Rourke believes they are heading toward the greenhouse.”
“If they reach the road, call the county sheriff and report that Manuel abducted her during a psychiatric crisis.”
“He is her husband.”
“Which makes the story more believable.”
Footsteps moved away.
A door closed above.
Caleb remained in the chapel for several seconds.
Manuel could hear him breathing.
Then a soft metallic object struck the floor near the altar overhead.
Three taps followed.
Pause.
Two taps.
Pause.
Three taps.
Manuel frowned.
It was the signal he and Caleb had used during college poker games whenever one of them needed to leave without alerting the table.
Caleb knew Manuel was beneath the chapel.
“He is warning you,” Rosalie whispered.
“Or leading us somewhere.”
Maya spoke through the phone.
“Do not trust him.”
“I don’t.”
“That was fast.”
“It was expensive.”
Rosalie turned back toward Lorelei’s memorial.
She lifted the candle on the left and found a small brass plate beneath it.
The plate bore four engraved words.
TRUTH WAITS UNDER MERCY.
“What does that mean?” Manuel asked.
Rosalie looked toward the stone figure mounted in the corner.
It depicted an angel with one hand extended over a kneeling woman.
“My grandfather called that angel Mercy.”
They crossed the chamber.
The statue’s base was hollow.
Manuel found a seam and pressed his fingers into it.
A narrow drawer slid out.
Inside lay an old cassette recorder wrapped in oilcloth and a small notebook labeled with dates.
Rosalie opened the notebook.
The first pages contained Lorelei’s handwriting.
The entries described meetings with Dr. Voss, doses of medications she had never consented to take, and arguments with Emmett over Durham Development accounts.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Thomas Nelson.
Manuel’s father.
The final complete entry had been written eleven days before Lorelei’s reported death.
Thomas found the concrete chamber beneath Parcel Nine.
He says Emmett has been falsifying environmental tests for six years.
There are barrels under the old foundry and medical files in the sealed room at Pinecrest.
If Thomas will testify, we can stop him.
The next page had been torn out.
On the page after it, only one sentence remained.
Thomas is frightened for Veronica and the boy.
Manuel read the line twice.
“The boy was me.”
Rosalie looked at him with an expression that held no accusation.
That made it worse.
Maya broke the silence.
“Your father died in a car accident six months after Lorelei.”
“That is what I was told.”
“The police report said he lost control on the East Ridge bridge.”
“I know where he died.”
“You need to know who signed the mechanical inspection after the crash.”
Manuel waited.
Maya said the name slowly.
“Caleb Mercer’s father.”
A faint click came from the brass-bound door.
The wheel handle turned one quarter of a rotation.
Someone outside had unlocked it.
Manuel stepped in front of Rosalie.
The door opened two inches.
Caleb’s face appeared in the gap.
His tuxedo jacket was gone, and sweat darkened the collar of his white shirt.
He looked at Manuel, then at Rosalie, then at the phone.
“You have four minutes before Rourke checks this door,” he whispered.
Manuel did not move.
“You were paid to betray me.”
“I was paid to slow you down.”
“You signed me into a guaranty that could destroy my family’s company.”
“I did not know what they planned for Rosalie.”
“You heard the doctor.”
“I heard him tonight.”
Caleb’s eyes moved toward the notebook in Rosalie’s hand.
His face changed when he saw his father’s name.
“You found Lorelei’s journal.”
“You knew it existed,” Manuel said.
“My father spent twenty years trying to find it.”
“Why?”
Caleb opened the door wider.
“Because he did not inspect your father’s car after the crash.”
“He inspected it three days before.”
A sound came from the corridor behind him.
Caleb looked back sharply.
“The greenhouse tunnel is open.”
“There is a delivery truck waiting near the east wall.”
“The driver owes Maya a favor.”
Maya spoke from the phone.
“I did not arrange a truck.”
Caleb’s face went pale.
Manuel saw the realization hit him.
Then the corridor lights snapped on behind Caleb.
Owen Rourke stood twenty feet away with two security officers.
His hand rested inside his jacket.
Caleb raised both hands.
“I can explain.”
Rourke’s gaze settled on Manuel.
“No,” he said.
“You can all come upstairs.”
Rosalie moved closer to Manuel.
May you like
Rourke smiled without warmth.
“Dr. Voss has prepared a room for the bride.”
