Chapter 4 - The Voice in the Static
The tinny audio crackled from the detective’s radio, echoing off the high vaulted ceilings of the luxury penthouse. First came Marcus’s frantic voice demanding answers, followed immediately by Julianne’s desperate plea. Then, a third voice drifted through the static—smooth, calm, and unmistakably belonging to David.
"Wrap it up," the recorded David said effortlessly through the tiny speaker. "She knows too much about the offshore accounts. Make it look like a fall."
Marcus stared at the radio in absolute disbelief. The world around him seemed to tilt on its axis. David—his lifelong friend, his best man, the godfather of his unborn child—had not been downstairs at the gala at all. He had been right here, orchestrating a murder while hiding in the adjacent private study.
Julianne collapsed onto her knees, burying her face in her hands as silent, shaking sobs finally broke through her frozen composure. "I tried to stop him, Marcus," she wept, her voice muffled against her palms. "He said if I told you, he would ruin my family just like he ruined yours."
Detective Vance clicked the radio off, sliding it back into his trench coat pocket with deliberate slowness. He stepped past Marcus, kneeling effortlessly beside the struggling Cali. The detective pulled a pair of sterile latex gloves from his pocket, snapping them onto his hands with a sharp, crisp sound.
"Mr. Vance," the detective said without looking up, his tone entirely businesslike. "Your wife is going into hypovolemic shock. If we don't get an ambulance up the private elevator right now, she won't make it another five minutes."
Marcus whirled around, his eyes locking onto the private elevator doors across the room. The indicator light above the panel was completely dark. The system had been locked down from the master control terminal in the basement.
"The elevator is offline," Marcus growled, a dark, primal rage surging through his veins that completely eclipsed his fear. "He locked the whole floor down."
"Not quite," Vance replied softly, pulling a heavy-duty master keycard from his coat pocket and tossing it across the marble floor. It skidded to a halt near Marcus’s black boots. "The emergency stairwell at the end of the hall is still accessible if you override the magnetic lock manually. But you’ll need to hurry."
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Marcus snatched the keycard off the floor, turning toward the hallway, but stopped dead in his tracks as the overhead lights suddenly flickered and died, plunging the penthouse into absolute, pitch-black darkness.
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