I twisted my neck, looking into the vault. The leather armchair was empty. The ledger was gone. The brown coat was gone.
Margaret Calloway had vanished.
"She went through the emergency vent! Or the ceiling!" Elise screamed frantically, tearing at the filing cabinets. "Find her!"
"Ma'am, there is no other exit," the security guard said, looking at Elise like she was crazy. "It's a solid concrete vault."
But I remembered the note. Elise does not know about the basement archive code. But more importantly, Elise didn't know the architecture. Margaret built this place. She knew every hidden door, every blind spot. She had slipped out into the labyrinth of the old building the second Elise ran for the door.
"Call the police!" Elise demanded, spinning around to face me, her chest heaving. She pointed a shaking finger at my face. "I want her arrested right now for breaking and entering!"
Ten minutes later, the flashing red and blue lights of the Chicago Police Department illuminated the alleyway. I was handcuffed, the cold metal biting into my wrists, being pushed into the back of a police cruiser. The rain was still falling, soaking my hair.
I looked up through the wet window. Elise was standing under the awning, giving her statement to a police officer. She looked entirely in control. She was playing the victim perfectly.
I squeezed my eyes shut, tears of absolute despair sliding down my cheeks. Margaret was gone. She had left me behind. I had no proof. The ledger was gone. Elise had won, and I was going to lose Maya.
The officer slammed the cruiser door shut, trapping me in the dark, smelling of stale sweat and vinyl.
The drive to the precinct was a blur of neon lights and silent panic. When we arrived, they processed me, taking my fingerprints and my mugshot. They placed me in a small, concrete holding cell with a metal bench.
I sat there for hours, shivering in my damp clothes, staring at the gray wall. I had gambled everything on doing the right thing, and I had lost.
At 6:00 AM, the heavy metal door of the holding area clanged open.
A police officer walked up to the bars of my cell. He didn't look angry. He looked profoundly uncomfortable.
"Harper," he said gruffly. "You're being released."
I looked up, confused. "What? Why?"
"The charges have been dropped by the property owner," the officer said, unlocking the cell door. "And your lawyer is here."
"I don't have a lawyer," I whispered, stepping out of the cell slowly.
"Yes, you do," a smooth, sharp voice echoed down the hall.
I looked up. Walking toward me was a tall man in an immaculate, thousand-dollar charcoal suit, carrying a leather briefcase. Behind him stood two other men dressed identically.
"Ms. Harper," the lead lawyer said, extending a hand. "My name is David Vance. I represent Calloway & Co. corporate. Ms. Calloway sent us. I apologize for the delay, but we had to ensure all of Elise's internal communications were secured before we moved on your release."
I stared at him, my brain struggling to process his words. "Margaret sent you? She didn't leave me?"
"Ms. Calloway never abandons her own," Vance said, offering a small, reassuring smile. He handed me a hot cup of coffee from a nearby tray. "She needed Elise to call the police. She needed the incident on official public record to trigger an immediate, undeniable corporate intervention clause in Elise's contract."
He checked a heavy gold watch on his wrist. "It is currently 6:15 AM. The regional corporate audit board meeting begins at the flagship store at 9:00 AM sharp. Ms. Calloway has requested that you accompany us. She wants you by her side when she addresses the board."