Chapter 7 - ONE HUNDRED FORTY WITNESSES
“Martin Keene is going to tell everyone your mother is confused.”
Detective Delgado had barely finished speaking when the hotel's banquet manager approached our group.
“Mr. Caruso, there's a problem.”
Sebastian looked up.
“What problem?”
“Mr. Keene's representatives are addressing the guests. They're claiming tonight's interruption was caused by a family misunderstanding.”
I felt Eleanor stiffen beside me.
The manager continued.
“They're also saying Mrs. Caruso became distressed because her interpreter gave incorrect information.”
Sebastian turned toward me.
I expected another order.
Instead, he asked, “Grace, what does my mother want to do?”
I looked at Eleanor and signed the question.
She answered immediately.
I WANT TO FINISH MY SPEECH.
Sebastian hesitated.
“Mother, there are reporters in that room.”
Eleanor signed again.
GOOD.
For the first time that evening, I smiled.
We returned to the ballroom.
The chandeliers still glittered.
The flowers still decorated every table.
But the atmosphere had changed.
Guests were standing in small groups, whispering.
Several parents had arrived to collect their children.
Hotel security had stopped the scheduled departures.
Martin Keene's public relations director stood near the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we appreciate your patience. Unfortunately, Mrs. Caruso experienced some confusion earlier—”
“Stop.”
Sebastian's voice carried across the room.
The man froze.
Sebastian walked toward the stage.
“My mother is not confused.”
One hundred forty guests turned.
“She was trying to warn us. And we refused to listen.”
A murmur spread through the ballroom.
The director tried to intervene.
“Mr. Caruso, these matters should remain private.”
Sebastian looked at him.
“That's exactly what allowed this to continue.”
He stepped aside.
Then he extended his hand toward Eleanor.
She climbed onto the stage.
I followed.
For a moment, I could hear only the faint movement of chairs.
Eleanor looked out at the audience.
Her hands began moving.
I interpreted.
“Three years ago, my granddaughter disappeared.”
Several guests gasped.
“People told my son that she had run away. I knew someone had taken her because I saw the man who collected her from school.”
Eleanor paused.
Her expression was calm.
“I tried to explain. I wrote letters. I asked questions. But the people closest to me treated my deafness as a reason not to believe me.”
I felt my throat tighten.
Still, I continued interpreting.
“Tonight, I learned that my granddaughter is alive.”
Sebastian lowered his head.
Eleanor's hands moved with greater force.
“And I learned that the foundation carrying my family's name has been used to put other children in danger.”
The room erupted in shocked whispers.
The public relations director approached the stage.
“We should stop this until the facts are verified.”
Eleanor looked directly at him.
Then she signed.
YOU DON'T GET TO SILENCE ME AGAIN.
I translated loudly.
The director stopped.
An older woman near the front stood.
“My grandson was in your scholarship program last year,” she said. “He came home frightened. Nobody would explain why.”
A man at another table rose.
“My niece was told she owed money for training she never received.”
A third guest spoke.
“My family donated forty thousand dollars because we believed these students were going to college.”
The ballroom began filling with questions.
Not one person was applauding now.
Detective Delgado stepped forward and asked anyone with relevant information to speak privately with investigators rather than confront staff.
Sebastian took the microphone.
“I funded this foundation. I put my family's reputation behind it. I failed to ask enough questions.”
He glanced toward Eleanor.
“And I failed someone who was trying to tell me the truth.”
Julian stood near the back of the room, accompanied by an officer.
He didn't look up.
Sebastian continued.
“No more students will leave under this program. Every document will be preserved. Every family deserves an explanation.”
For the first time, several guests nodded.
Then a woman approached the stage.
It was Mrs. Bennett, the housekeeper who had saved Lucia's paper bird.
She was carrying her hotel identification badge.
“I need to tell the police something,” she said.
Delgado stepped toward her.
Mrs. Bennett explained that she had recognized Nolan Price.
“He came to the hotel several times. Once with a young girl and once with a woman who worked at the riverfront property.”
“Do you know the woman?” Delgado asked.
“Only her first name. Margaret.”
Julian suddenly lifted his head.
“Margaret Shaw?”
Mrs. Bennett nodded.
Julian's face drained.
“She's the residence manager.”
Damon was already contacting the investigators checking the riverfront property.
A moment later, he received a photograph from a nearby traffic camera.
It showed a dark vehicle leaving the old Bellwether building.
A young girl sat beside the rear window.
Her face was partially hidden.
But her hands were visible.
Eleanor seized my wrist.
LOOK.
The girl was signing through the glass.
Three words.
I knew them immediately.
I HAVE PROOF.
Then the girl raised a small blue notebook against the window.
Damon enlarged the image.
Sebastian whispered, “Lucia.”
But the next image was worse.
The vehicle had stopped at the bridge.
A man stepped out to speak with another driver.
It was Nolan Price.
And according to the camera's timestamp, the photograph had been taken less than five minutes earlier.
May you like
Lucia was being moved.
Right now.
