Chapter 14: The Stranger Inside the Church

The photograph had been taken from the choir loft.

Security cleared the church within minutes, but whoever sent it was already gone.

The side entrance showed no sign of forced entry.

The cameras had been disabled for exactly nine minutes.

Thayer stood beneath the darkened loft, his expression colder than I had ever seen it.

"Someone had access," he said.

"Or a key," I replied.

The church administrator was questioned first.

Then the cleaning staff.

Then every member of the wedding team.

All of them had alibis.

The only unexplained access belonged to a temporary florist hired two days earlier.

Her name was listed as Elena Brooks.

The address was false.

The phone number had been disconnected.

"A woman," I said.

Thayer looked at the blurred image from the church corridor.

A slim figure in a cap and oversized coat carried two flower boxes toward the side door.

"Could be," he said.

"You think it is Gina."

"Gina is under police supervision."

"That does not mean she is uninvolved."

We went to see her the next morning.

Gina sat in a guarded apartment provided through the witness-protection program while prosecutors prepared the case against Senator Cross and Malcolm Reed.

She looked annoyed rather than frightened when we arrived.

"You think I threatened your wedding?"

"Did you?" I asked.

"No."

"Do you know Elena Brooks?"

Her expression changed.

"Where did you hear that name?"

Thayer leaned forward.

"Answer her."

Gina looked toward the officer stationed outside the room.

"Elena was one of Derek's contacts. She worked parties, hotels, private clubs. Wherever people stopped noticing the staff."

"What did she do?"

"Collected information. Photos. Recordings. Sometimes keys."

My stomach tightened.

"Who employed her?"

"Malcolm. Before him, Senator Cross's campaign."

"Then why is she still active?"

Gina gave a bitter laugh.

"Because people like Elena are never loyal to one employer. They sell access."

"To whom?"

"Anyone who pays."

Thayer placed the church photograph on the table.

Gina stared at it.

"That message isn't Elena's style."

"You recognize her style?"

"She never warned people. She watched until she had something valuable."

"Then someone hired her to watch us," I said.

Gina nodded slowly.

"Someone who wants you afraid before the wedding."

When we left, Thayer's security chief called.

They had traced Elena's latest payment to a private account.

The account belonged to Bastian.

I stopped in the hallway.

"That cannot be right."

"Why not?" Thayer asked.

"Because he is broke."

"He still had access to one personal trust."

"Enough to hire her?"

"Enough for a deposit."

Bastian denied everything.

His attorney produced statements showing the payment had been made from his account without his authorization.

A familiar pattern.

Someone was using stolen access to point suspicion toward him.

"He may be lying," my father said.

"Or someone wants us focused on him," I replied.

The second possibility worried me more.

Elena was finally located at a train station under another name.

Police found three phones, six access cards, and photographs of our families in her luggage.

She refused to speak until her attorney arrived.

Then she made one demand.

"I will talk only to Meredith Hale."

The interview room was colder than the one where I had faced Gina.

Elena looked ordinary.

That was probably her greatest advantage.

"Who hired you?" I asked.

"A woman."

"Name."

"She never gave one."

"What did she want?"

"Photographs of you and Mr. Sinclair. Your security schedule. The wedding venue."

"Why send the threat?"

"I didn't."

"The picture came from your phone."

"My phone was cloned."

Thayer's attorney shifted beside me.

"Convenient," he said.

Elena shrugged.

"Convenient does not mean false."

She slid a folded paper across the table.

It was a handwritten list.

My dress fitting.

The rehearsal dinner.

The wedding day.

Beside each date was a time and location.

"This was left in my hotel room," Elena said. "After the threat was sent, I realized someone planned to blame me if anything happened."

"Who knew your hotel?"

"Only the client."

"Describe her."

"Mid-fifties. Dark hair. Expensive clothes. Spoke like she was used to being obeyed."

My mind moved immediately to Mrs. Wilson.

I rejected the thought just as quickly.

She had defended me from the beginning.

Then Elena added, "She wore a Wilson family signet ring."

Thayer went still.

Mrs. Wilson owned one.

So did Bastian's aunt.

So had Bastian's grandmother.

The ring identified a family.

Not a person.

That evening, Mrs. Wilson came to our house voluntarily.

She placed her signet ring on the table.

"Test it," she said. "Check my phone, my accounts, my movements. I did not hire anyone."

I believed her.

The police confirmed she had been abroad when Elena first received instructions.

"Who else has a ring like this?" I asked.

Mrs. Wilson's face changed.

"My sister, Lydia."

"Where is she?"

"She disappeared from the family ten years ago after my father removed her from the company."

"Why?"

"She stole from us."

The room fell silent.

"And she hated your engagement to Bastian," Mrs. Wilson continued. "She believed your family would eventually control the Wilson company."

"Would she threaten my wedding to Thayer?"

"If she thought your marriage strengthened both families against her, yes."

A new photograph arrived on my phone.

This one showed a woman standing outside my parents' house.

Her face was hidden.

On her hand, the Wilson signet ring caught the light.

The message beneath it read:

You should have married Bastian when you had the chance.