Redstone Construction CEO Learns About Blue Envelope in Hospital Recovery Room
The screen was divided into four small gray squares, each showing a different angle of the empty penthouse living room. The silence inside the surveillance van was broken only by the steady hum of the cooling fan under the equipment rack.
Vance did not move. His hands were buried deep in his trench coat pockets, his shoulder leaning against the metal rib of the van wall.
On the monitor in the upper left, a shadow fell across the threshold of the penthouse door. A brass key turned, the sound sharp and metallic through the headphones Vance had handed me.
Nicole walked into the frame first. She was wearing the long gray wool coat I had bought her for our anniversary, the collar turned up against the Denver wind.
Julian Mercer followed her, closing the door behind him with a soft click that resonated in my ears. He took her coat, his movements familiar and practiced, and draped it over the back of the leather sofa.
I rubbed my left wrist, my thumb searching for the heavy metal of the watch I had left on my dresser. The skin there felt thin and cold.
