Chapter 5 - THE MAN IN BLACK GLOVES
Weston did not accuse Graham immediately.
Men in Weston Hargrove’s world survived by learning the danger of assumptions.
Evidence could be planted.
Records could be altered.
A glove could be stolen.
And enemies often depended on anger moving faster than intelligence.
So Weston did something Holly did not expect.
Nothing.
At least publicly.
Graham returned to the estate forty minutes later carrying a leather portfolio.
He entered Weston’s office looking mildly irritated.
“I was told the property was locked down.”
Weston stood behind his desk.
Holly sat near the fireplace.
Tristan remained by the window.
“Where were you?” Weston asked.
Graham glanced at Holly before answering.
“Meeting with counsel in Manhattan.”
“Which attorney?”
“Raymond Pierce.”
Tristan’s phone buzzed.
He read the message.
Pierce had confirmed it.
Graham had arrived at his office at 8:40.
Left at 9:25.
Midnight reacted at 9:37.
The drive back normally took thirty-five minutes.
It would have been nearly impossible for Graham to be the person near the equipment shed.
Nearly.
Weston placed the glove on his desk.
Graham’s face changed.
“Where did you find that?”
“Near the stable.”
Graham picked it up.
“This is mine.”
Holly watched him carefully.
“You’re sure?”
He looked offended.
“My initials are inside.”
“When did you last have it?”
Graham frowned.
“Yesterday, perhaps.”
“You only wear one glove?”
“No.”
He looked toward Weston.
“My other pair is in my car.”
“Security already checked,” Tristan said. “There’s one glove in your coat pocket. Left hand.”
The recovered glove was right-handed.
Graham went silent.
Weston watched him.
“Someone took it.”
“That appears obvious.”
“Does it?”
Graham’s jaw tightened.
“You’ve known me nineteen years.”
“Yes.”
“I carried your father’s coffin.”
“Yes.”
“I helped pull you out of a warehouse after the Santoro shooting.”
“Yes.”
“I stood beside you when Caroline died.”
Weston’s expression became colder.
“Yes.”
Graham looked at Holly.
“And now a nanny finds one of my gloves near a horse, and suddenly I’m being questioned like a traitor?”
Holly’s face remained calm.
“I didn’t accuse you.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Graham.”
Weston’s voice ended the exchange.
Graham turned.
Weston leaned forward.
“If you are innocent, you should want me to ask these questions.”
The older man’s expression hardened.
“Of course.”
Weston slid the glove toward Tristan.
“Find out who accessed Graham’s office, car, and apartment during the last week.”
Tristan nodded.
Graham gathered his portfolio.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
Weston’s gaze became sharp enough to cut.
“Until this is resolved, stay away from Mary.”
For the first time, genuine hurt appeared on Graham’s face.
But he only nodded.
“Understood.”
After he left, Holly exhaled.
“You think he did it.”
“I think someone wants me to think he did.”
“Those are different things.”
“Yes.”
“Which worries you more?”
Weston looked toward the closed door.
“The second.”
That night, Holly dreamed of fire.
She was seventeen again.
Barefoot.
Running across frozen mud.
Orange flames poured through the barn roof.
Her father shouted from somewhere inside.
“Holly! Stay back!”
She never stayed back.
Not then.
Not now.
In the dream, she ran into the burning building.
But instead of horses inside the stalls, she found photographs.
Caroline Hargrove.
Midnight.
Mary.
Her father.
All burning.
Then someone in black gloves closed the barn door.
Holly woke with a gasp.
Her room was dark.
For several seconds, she didn’t know where she was.
Then came the sound.
A soft scrape outside her door.
Holly sat up.
Another scrape.
She reached for the bedside lamp.
Before turning it on, she heard footsteps moving away.
Holly opened the door.
The hallway was empty.
Mary’s bedroom was two doors down.
Holly immediately checked it.
The child slept peacefully.
Holly turned back.
Something white lay on the carpet outside her own room.
An envelope.
No name.
She carried it inside and locked the door.
The envelope contained one photograph.
Samuel Bennett stood beside Dahlia.
Behind him was Caroline Hargrove.
And behind Caroline stood Graham Voss.
Holly’s blood ran cold.
On the back, five words had been written in black ink.
YOUR FATHER SHOULD HAVE LISTENED.
She ran from the room.
Weston was in his study when she entered without knocking.
Two armed men immediately reached beneath their jackets.
Weston lifted one hand.
They stopped.
Holly crossed the room and slapped the photograph on his desk.
“Someone left this outside my bedroom.”
Weston read the message.
His face became terrifyingly still.
“Who was on the floor?”
“I don’t know.”
He turned toward security.
“Lock the east wing.”
Within minutes, guards searched every room.
Nobody unauthorized was found.
Weston stood in Holly’s bedroom while a technician checked the hall camera.
“It went offline at 1:12,” the technician said.
“For how long?”
“Four minutes.”
“Why?”
“Manual interruption from the service panel.”
Weston’s gaze shifted.
“Who can access it?”
“Security, maintenance, senior estate staff.”
Holly folded her arms around herself.
Someone had walked within feet of Mary’s bedroom.
That changed everything.
“I’m moving Mary.”
Weston looked at her.
“Where?”
“Anywhere safer.”
“No.”
She stared.
“No?”
“You’re not moving my daughter anywhere.”
“Someone just disabled a camera outside her bedroom.”
“And this estate has fifty men who can protect her.”
“Someone inside those fifty men is doing this.”
Weston’s jaw tightened.
Holly continued.
“You protect people with walls.”
“And you protect them by walking into arenas with violent horses.”
“At least I know what I’m walking toward.”
The words hit harder than she intended.
Weston stepped closer.
“You think I don’t know what danger is?”
“I think you’re so used to being feared that you’ve forgotten what it feels like when the threat is invisible.”
His eyes became cold.
“My wife died because I underestimated a threat.”
Holly’s anger disappeared.
Weston’s voice lowered.
“I won’t do it again.”
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Mary appeared at the doorway.
Her teddy bear dragged against the carpet.
“Daddy?”
Weston turned immediately.
She looked frightened.
“Why are all the men here?”
Weston crouched.
“Something broke.”
“What?”
“A camera.”
Mary looked at Holly.
Children knew when adults lied.
“Are we in trouble?”
Holly knelt beside Weston.
“No, sweetheart.”
“Is Midnight in trouble?”
“No.”
Mary hugged her bear.
Then she whispered, “Mr. Graham was here.”
Weston froze.
“When?”
“Before.”
His voice remained gentle.
“When before?”
“Tonight.”
Holly and Weston exchanged a look.
Mary pointed toward Holly’s room.
“He went there.”
Weston’s face changed.
“You saw him?”
Mary nodded.
“He told me to go back to bed.”
“When was this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was he wearing his coat?”
Mary thought.
“No.”
“Gloves?”
She shook her head.
“What did he have in his hands?”
Mary stared at the floor.
“A white paper.”
The envelope.
Weston stood.
The atmosphere in the hallway changed instantly.
“Find Graham.”
Security moved.
Tristan came running from the stairs.
“What happened?”
“Mary saw him outside Holly’s room.”
Tristan grabbed his phone.
Thirty seconds passed.
Then his face went pale.
“Weston.”
“What?”
“Graham’s suite is empty.”
Weston’s eyes narrowed.
“Car?”
“Still here.”
“Phone?”
“On his desk.”
Holly felt cold.
A guard rushed upstairs.
“Sir.”
He held something wrapped in cloth.
“We found this beneath Voss’s mattress.”
He opened it.
A small electrical livestock prod.
Beside it was another silver whistle.
Holly stared.
Too easy.
Far too easy.
“This is wrong,” she whispered.
Weston looked at her.
“What?”
“If Graham wanted to hide those things, he wouldn’t put them under his mattress.”
Tristan nodded slowly.
“She’s right.”
A second guard appeared.
“We found blood.”
Everyone turned.
“Where?”
“Service stairs.”
Holly’s stomach tightened.
They followed him downstairs.
Three drops of blood marked the stone floor.
Then six.
Then a smear.
The trail ended at a maintenance door.
Beyond it was the winter garden.
Graham Voss lay unconscious behind a hedge.
His shirt was soaked red.
A knife protruded from his side.
Holly covered her mouth.
Weston knelt beside the man he had known for nineteen years.
Graham’s eyes opened weakly.
“Weston…”
“Don’t talk.”
Graham grabbed his coat.
His fingers were cold.
“They’re inside.”
Weston leaned closer.
“Who?”
Graham coughed.
“One of your own.”
“Who?”
Graham’s eyes rolled.
May you like
Before losing consciousness, he whispered two words.
“Ask Caroline.”
