I head to an unoccupied terminal in the corner and sit down. Before I can log in, Bert Ruben, Assistant Chief of Security, waddles over to me. His grin is as large as the rest of him.
“Miss Rossi, what a pleasure to have you back with us. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Oh, thank you, but no.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “There’s a guy at the Gala and well …” I don’t finish my sentence because I have no idea what to say. I’m a horrible liar. All I need is for Bert to leave me alone.
“Do you need any help?”
“You’re so sweet, but I remember what to do. Thank you.” I smile and flutter my lashes.
Burt is sweet and easy to manipulate. Just like with the maids, I spent a week behind a computer screen with security, monitoring the gambling floor, the guest halls, the loading docks, and every other piece of the Belvedere.
“If you need any help …” He clasps his hands together, hopeful.
“Thank you so much, but you’re an excellent teacher. If I run into problems, I’ll call you.”
“I’ll leave you to it, Miss Rossi.”
“Thank you.” I wait for him to leave before rolling up my sleeves and digging in.
Sybil got on that elevator. What level of employee parking did she exit on? If I know that, I can focus on that level.
Still nothing from Sybil.
I pull up the footage from outside my office and wind back the tape to just before lunch. I follow Sybil to the elevator where two other employees join her. The men enter the elevator with Sybil and I switch security cameras to the one inside the elevator, only it’s on the fritz.
I lose the feed. I scroll the timestamp forward. Whatever the malfunction, it appears to be fixed an hour later.
With thousands of cameras scattered throughout the Belvedere, malfunctions are not uncommon. I rewind, note the time, then jump down to the cameras in the garage.
Eyes glued to the screen, I wait for the elevator door to open on EL-1, but nothing happens. I fast forward the feed.
Nothing.
Switching to EL-2, the same thing happens. The elevator door never opens. I move to EL-3, hoping this is the right floor. Clutching at my gut, tension builds within me.
Nothing.
Leaning back, I blow out a breath, wondering what I’m missing.
Okay, think it through.
My fingers tap the desk as I try to piece together the puzzling disappearance of my friend. She didn’t vanish inside the elevator.
What about the two men? Is there any sign of them exiting the elevator?
Only one way to know.
Backing up the feed again, I note the time stamp. I check each floor, looking for the elevator door opening. The cameras show two views where they’re mounted. One points into the elevator, the other points the opposite direction down the hall. All I need is to search floor by floor and wait for Sybil to exit the elevator.
I will find her.
Starting at the twenty-first floor, I’m systematic in my search.
No Sybil.
Not only is there no Sybil, but there’s no sign of the two men who rode with her exiting the elevator. I check the feed inside the elevator again. It cuts out the moment the three of them boarded it.
If no one got out on any of the floors below, did they go up instead?
I flex my fingers and lean in, determined to solve this mystery. But there’s nothing on the closed-circuit monitors which show her exiting the elevator.
Sybil simply vanished.
Okay, don’t panic.
Bert comes by several times to check on me. Each time, I flip over to the banquet hall and pretend I’m looking for my mystery man of the evening.
The moment he walks away, I lean in and double down. In a casino, where every square inch of the building is monitored and recorded, it should be impossible to lose anyone.
I set a thirty-minute window, fast forward all the feeds, and check everything out from the parking garage to the laundry room, to the entrances, loading docks, and even the rooftop bar. There are no cameras on the HVAC floor and none on the twenty-fifth.
That floor is restricted. Even I’m not allowed up there, which says something considering I’m the CEO. Uncle Marco uses that floor for his business dealings and doesn’t want the intrusiveness of surveillance cameras in that space. Not that they aren’t there.
I pull at my chin, thinking.
An idea comes to me. It takes a moment to remember the passcode, but I think I’ve got it right. I enter a code I once saw my father type into his computer at home. He needed to access the Belvedere’s security systems from outside the building for some reason. I remember it because my father seemed nervous that night.
He died later that night, and it’s my hope the code still exists within Belvedere’s systems.
It’s a Hail Mary move, but I’ve got nothing left to try.
I type the code, squeeze my eyes tight, and press Enter. Prying my eyes open, I stare at the screen.
Success! I’m in.
Knowing I don’t have much time, I search the twenty-fifth floor. Marco may not want surveillance on his floor, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t hundreds of cameras. And it doesn’t mean they aren’t recording everything they see. All it means is they operate on a separate server, a server my father’s old access code cracks wide open.
The elevator feed cuts out the moment Sybil enters the elevator. I flip over to a camera directed toward the elevator on the twenty-fifth floor. Oddly, those feeds are also affected. It’s too much of a coincidence.
I stare at the feed, letting it fast forward. The interference cuts out after a minute or two, leaving me staring at a closed elevator. Switching to the hallway view, I nibble at my lower lip hoping something happens. The time index counts upward. Thirty minutes pass and the hall remains empty.
Bert is on patrol again, heading my way. I’ve spent too much time here and draw his eye. Time to give up. As I reach to cut the feed, three men exit a room at the far end of the hall. They stride toward the elevator, heads down, very purposeful in their gate. Each man carries a laundry bag slung over his shoulder. As someone who’s worked with the housekeeping service, they aren’t carrying laundry.
They carry something far worse.
Not that I’m an expert, but those are bodies in those bags, and none of the bodies show signs of life.
With my heart pounding, I track them to the elevator. From there, I follow them to the loading dock where a panel truck waits for them. They load the bodies and shut the doors. The truck drives off while I gulp air.
My overly active imagination is a curse, except this time—this time it got everything right.
I don’t know if Sybil is in one of those bags, but I feel it. I feel it in my gut. I feel it in the shattering of my heart. Somehow, I simply know.
Sybil didn’t vanish.
She was taken.
Bert angles in my direction. Quickly, I shut down the feed, only my finger slips. Instead of a replay, the cameras reveal a live feed of the twenty-fifth floor.
Two men in dark suits and two women in cocktail dresses creep down the hall. As if that’s not weird enough, each of them carries a gun.
They take out two men posted as guards outside that same room, then kick in the door and rush inside.
One of the security technicians calls Bert over to review a potential cheater at the craps table. Bert pauses to review the file. The technician points at the screen and they discuss what they see.