When the Shadows Fall by Elise Noble

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 13 - SKY

STAY OR GO? Stay or go? Stay or go?

An hour after I’d run into my worst nightmare, and I’d scrubbed my face and changed into capri pants, golf shoes, and a pink polo shirt. Thanks, Bradley. All I wanted was a pair of jeans. And a cigarette. I needed a cigarette. Yes, I’d quit smoking when I moved to America, but if ever there was a time to start again, it was now.

Part of me wanted to call a cab and fade quietly into the night, but I owed it to Emmy to say goodbye. What had Rafael told her? Had he laid my secrets bare? I should have come clean three weeks ago, shouldn’t I? Asked if it was possible for me to step down and perhaps help out at the office instead. Sat in the surveillance room or something. That way, I might have been able to salvage a fragment of my career at Blackwood.

My bag was packed, my dress back on its hanger. Just looking at it hurt. Right now, I should have been downstairs, keeping distressed guests away from Ravi. How was it going? I hadn’t heard any alarms, but I didn’t expect to—Nate had control of the entire system.

My fingers twitched as my body cried out for nicotine. While I’d been busy, I’d barely noticed the withdrawal symptoms, but now I wanted to stick NiQuitin patches all over my body. A tribute to failure. One of the assholes downstairs would probably call it modern art and pay twenty thousand bucks for me to stand in a gallery. Hmm… A potential new vocation?

Oh, screw it, someone in this place must have a cigarette. Where was the smokers’ corner? Every building had one—that little outdoor hidey-hole where like-minded addicts gathered to escape other people’s disapproving glances.

Thankfully, I had somewhere to put my room card now. I slipped it into my pocket as the door closed behind me, then set off on my quest. At least I wouldn’t bump into Brock Keaton again. Not only did I keep my wits about me this time, but he was undoubtedly being waited on hand and foot while women fawned over him in yet another example of injustice in the world.

A security guard was positioned by the side door, and he watched me as I approached.

“Any idea where the smoking area is?”

“No, ma’am.”

Fat lot of good he was. I slipped outside and found myself in the side car park. For most of the week, it had been almost empty, but tonight it overflowed with Bentleys and Porsches and Ferraris and Range Rovers. Even an Aston Martin. And was that a Bugatti? A guy my age sat on a high stool behind the valet stand, and I headed in his direction.

“Hey.”

He looked up, a key in his hand.

“You need your car?”

“I’m looking for the smoking area.”

He glanced left and right. “It’s over on the other side of the hotel, but you can smoke here. Nobody’s around. They’re all at the big party.”

“So it’s a bit awkward—I actually need to bum a cigarette because I’m meant to have given up smoking.”

Another glance in each direction, and he fished around in his pocket and came up with a packet of Marlboros. My hero.

“Shh. I didn’t give you this.”

“I won’t say a thing, I swear. Do you have a light?”

He did, and it was easier to breathe once I got my first hit of sweet, sweet nicotine. I inhaled deeply, coughed once because I’d been deprived for so long, then blew out a stream of smoke.

“Better.”

“Rough night?” the valet asked.

“Something like that.”

“Row with your parents?”

I figured I owed him a cover story. “My boyfriend. No offence, but men can be such jerks.”

“I get it. My last boyfriend turned out to be a real asshole too.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be—I met a much nicer guy.”

“That gives me hope.” Another lie—Rafael had been surprisingly understanding about my cock-ups so far, but not even he could brush tonight’s incident under the carpet. “I was thinking of maybe getting out of here. Do you happen to have the number for a cab company?”

“Sure I do. You have your phone?”

I patted my pockets. Shit. “I left it in my room.”

“It’s okay, I can write it down for you.”

The valet backed into the little hut behind him and came back with a piece of paper and a pen. Would I call for a ride? I still hadn’t made up my mind.

“There you go.”

“Thanks. Do you have to stay out here all night? Surely nobody’ll arrive this late?”

“The boss says I have to stick around.”

His tone said the boss was an idiot.

“Can’t you sneak inside?”

“Nope, I need this job. Got one year of college left, and it won’t pay for itself. And where else would I get paid to drive a Lamborghini? When I can find the key for it, that is.” He held up a handful of keys, then dumped them onto the shelf in front of him. “This is a mess.”

“There isn’t a system?”

“Oh, sure there’s a system. We write the registration number on a paper tag, tie it to the key, and drop it into the basket. Then at the end of the night, we spend fifteen minutes hunting through the pile and the guests get annoyed.”

“What about using a numbered board? Or a secure cabinet?”

“You have no idea how many times I’ve suggested that, but the boss is old school.” The valet put on a croaky voice. “‘We’ve been doing it this way for years, son,’ he always says. So I’m trying to separate the different makes. You know, all the Porsche keys together, that sort of thing.”

“Good idea. I’ll be looking for a new job soon. On balance, would you recommend valeting?”

At least I’d managed to get a driver’s licence during my time at Riverley.

“It can be great. I’d suggest trying for an upscale restaurant when you’re starting out. Fewer guests means lower tips, but it’s a steady stream of customers through the evening rather than a crazy rush at the beginning and the end. Much easier.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

Movement behind the valet caught my eye. A man in a white shirt and black trousers had slipped out of the fire exit from the basement. Why? He wasn’t one of our team. A waiter? He was wearing a tie rather than a bow tie, the same as all the staff. Yes, a waiter. When he turned, an outside light caught his face, and I recalled he’d served us breakfast the day before yesterday. But why was he leaving in the middle of the evening? And through an emergency exit? What was the package under his arm?

Something felt off about his movements.

“Are you working at the moment?” the valet asked.

“Right now?” A giggle bubbled out of me. “Of course not.”

“I meant, like, when you’re at home.”

“Oh. I don’t think so. My last job, I made a few mistakes, and it’s either jump or be pushed.”

“Things might not be as bad as you think.”

The waiter avoided me and my new friend, making sure he put several vehicles between us as he flitted past in the gloom. But I watched him from the corner of my eye. He was carrying a handbag. A chunky leather ladies’ handbag. Had he stolen it? From one of the party guests? If I had to guess, I’d say he probably had.

“No, things are pretty bad.”

“Have you tried talking to your boss? Sometimes it helps. Not in my case, but my buddy Frederico…”

I tuned the valet out as the waiter crossed into the main car park, and a moment later, I heard a car door slam. An engine started. That fucker. He’d stolen some poor woman’s handbag, and now he was doing a freaking runner.

I might have had one foot out of the door at Blackwood, but Emmy had still managed to instill some morals into me during my time there. Yes, I’d stolen from people myself in the past, but only wallets, never a whole bag. And on the odd occasion they’d contained personal items, I’d taken the cash and mailed the rest back to the owners. The people at the gala were all loaded. That bag most likely contained a stack of moolah.

What should I do? I only had a second or two to make up my mind. The waiter had already turned down the driveway. Soon, he’d be long gone.

“Look!” I pointed past the valet. “Is that a fox?”

He turned to see. “Where?”

“By the corner of the building.”

I reached over the top of the stand and grabbed the first key that came to hand. Lucky dip.

“My mistake. I think it’s just a shadow.”

“Sometimes we do get foxes here. And one of the receptionists, she swears she saw a bear on the grounds.”

“A bear? No way.”

“That’s what she said.”

Wrap it up, Sky.“Thinking about your advice, I’m gonna take it. You’re right. I should talk to my boss. Like, straight away.”

“Now? On a Saturday night?”

“She works weird hours. Thanks for the cigarette. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Okay, nice talking with you.”

I hurried back the way I’d come, and halfway to the door, I turned to check whether the valet was still watching me. He was. I gave him a little wave to let him know I’d caught him, and he looked away. Psychology 101. I cut left and crouched between two cars. What had I got?

A Ferrari key. I’d nicked a fucking Ferrari key.

Not ideal, but needs must, and before you give me a lecture, I was only planning to borrow the thing, not send it to a chop shop. And that waiter needed to be stopped. The way he’d moved, quickly yet confidently, made me think it wasn’t the first time he’d pulled that trick. How many more people would he steal from if he got away? I might have screwed up everything else tonight, but perhaps I could redeem myself slightly if I tracked down a thief.

I duck-walked between rows, pressing the button on the fob until a shiny red car bleeped back at me. Hello, wheels. Whoever owned it must have been pretty tall because I could hardly reach the pedals, but I didn’t have time to mess around with the seat position. Instead, I cringed as the engine started with a roar, then drove out of the car park as fast as I dared. How long did I have before the valet called the police? Surely he’d have noticed the Ferrari leaving?

At the end of the driveway, I glimpsed a pair of tail lights disappearing around a bend to my right and took off after them. If I’d had to pick the top ten worst vehicles for surveillance, this bloody car would definitely have made the top half of the list. There was absolutely nothing subtle about it. The only point in its favour was that I didn’t look like a cop. The waiter was in a newish hatchback—a BMW, maybe, or an Audi. Where was he going? I settled in at an appropriate distance to find out.