Redstone Construction CEO Learns About Blue Envelope in Hospital Recovery Room
Vance looked at me for a long second, his raspy voice dropping even lower. “It is not going to be clean.”
“I know,” I said.
We left the van and walked through the cold alley toward the service entrance of the penthouse building. The wind was biting, carrying the smell of exhaust and wet asphalt.
The service elevator was slow, its metal walls vibrating as we ascended to the tenth floor. Two plainclothes officers were already waiting in the carpeted hallway when the doors slid open.
The hallway was silent, the walls covered in a soft beige fabric that muffled our footsteps. The brass numbers on Mercer’s door, 1004, caught the light from the recessed fixtures above.
Vance stood to the left of the door, his hand resting near his belt. The other two officers positioned themselves on the opposite side of the frame.
The sound of laughter came through the heavy wood of the door, followed by the slide of the deadbolt.
The door swung outward.
Nicole was smiling, her purse slung over her arm, her gray coat already buttoned. Mercer was right behind her, his hand resting on the small of her back.
