Chapter 5 - The Shattered Chandelier
The deafening crash of falling crystal echoed like gunfire through the cavernous ballroom. Graham instinctively spun around, throwing his entire body over little Chloe to shield her from the razor-sharp rain of glass hitting the floor around them. Dust and pulverized plaster billowed down from the high ceiling, turning the golden lighting into a hazy, suffocating fog.
"Stay down!" Graham barked, coughing as he shielded the child with his broad shoulders, his tuxedo jacket taking the brunt of several falling shards.
Clara screamed, crawling frantically across the glass-strewn marble toward the heavy mahogany head table for cover. Her sequined gown caught on a jagged piece of crystal, ripping a loud, jagged tear in the expensive fabric, but she didn't stop, pulling herself forward until she was wedged safely beneath the very same table where Chloe had been hiding moments earlier.
Detective Miller had his service weapon drawn in an instant, his stance wide and low as he scanned the upper balcony where the lighting controls and maintenance catwalks were located. "Security breach! Show yourself!" Miller shouted, his voice cutting sharply through the settling dust.
Up on the darkened catwalk twenty feet above the banquet floor, a heavy iron maintenance door slammed shut with a resounding bang, followed by the heavy, rapid thud of footsteps running down the emergency service stairwell.
Graham carefully lifted his head, checking Chloe over in the dim light. Miraculously, the toddler was still fast asleep, her breathing deep and even, though a tiny smudge of white cupcake frosting was smeared across the collar of Graham's white dress shirt. Graham gently set her down on a plush velvet chair that had escaped the falling glass, instructing her in a firm, soothing whisper to stay put.
"Clara," Graham said, his voice cold and steady as he walked over to the table and hauled her up by her uninjured arm. "That wasn't an electrical malfunction. Someone deliberately blew the rigging on that chandelier. And judging by the timing, they were aiming right for the spot where we were standing."
Clara was trembling uncontrollably, her eyes fixed on the heavy double doors at the end of the hall. "It wasn't just a random assassin, Graham. It was the man Julian was working with before he died."
"Give me a name, Clara, right now, or I swear to God I will leave you here with Miller and never look back," Graham threatened, his patience wearing dangerously thin.
Clara swallowed hard, her lips trembling as she whispered a single name that made even Detective Miller lower his weapon in sheer astonishment.
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"It was Arthur Pendelton," Clara breathed. "Your own company’s chief financial officer."
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