Chapter 2 - The Eight Men at Table Twelve
Dr. Evelyn Walsh arrived seven minutes later.
She examined my shoulder while Jude stood near the window.
"Anterior dislocation," she said. "We need to reduce it."
I looked at Jude.
"Leave."
"No."
"Mr. Mercer."
"No."
Dr. Walsh raised an eyebrow.
"She asked you to leave."
Jude stared at me.
"Fine."
He walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
"If she needs anything—"
"Out," Dr. Walsh said.
For the first time in three years, I watched somebody order Jude Mercer around.
He actually listened.
The procedure hurt.
But when my shoulder finally slid back into place, I nearly cried from relief.
Dr. Walsh put my arm in a sling.
"Hospital tomorrow. Imaging. Tonight, you rest."
A knock came.
Jude entered.
"Finished?"
"She needs rest," Dr. Walsh said.
"I heard."
"That means no interrogation."
"I'm not interrogating her."
Dr. Walsh gave him a skeptical look.
After she left, Jude placed a tablet in front of me.
Eight photographs were displayed.
I immediately recognized Bryce.
"That's him."
Jude touched the screen.
"Bryce Whitmore."
Next.
"Grant Holloway."
Next.
"Peter Langford."
Next.
"Caleb Rhodes."
My stomach tightened.
"That one grabbed my right arm."
Jude's expression didn't move.
He continued.
By the time we finished, all eight had names.
Bryce Whitmore.
Grant Holloway.
Peter Langford.
Caleb Rhodes.
Miles Davenport.
Nathan Cole.
Spencer Vale.
And Eric Halston.
Jude locked the tablet.
"Good."
"What happens to them?"
"They leave."
I blinked.
"That's it?"
"For tonight."
I studied him.
"You aren't going to hurt them?"
His eyes met mine.
"No."
Something in my chest loosened.
"But," he continued, "I am going to make sure they can't hide what happened."
He opened the door.
Victor Hale, Jude's security chief, was waiting outside.
"Footage?"
Victor nodded.
"Service corridor cameras caught the beginning. West stairwell caught Audrey escaping. Ballroom cameras establish everyone present."
"Copies?"
"Already secured."
"Good."
I stared at them.
"There are cameras?"
Jude looked at me.
"Everywhere except private rooms."
"So you have proof."
"Yes."
I almost laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because for the first time that night, Bryce Whitmore's father didn't matter.
Jude noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Audrey."
I looked down.
"I thought nobody would believe me."
Jude became completely still.
"I believe you."
"You didn't see it."
"I saw you."
Four words.
That was all.
Victor cleared his throat.
"Sir, Bryce is becoming difficult."
Jude buttoned his jacket.
"Then we shouldn't keep him waiting."
I caught his sleeve.
"Don't go alone."
Victor almost smiled.
Jude looked mildly offended.
"Audrey, there are forty-two security personnel in this building."
"I meant don't lose control."
His expression changed.
"You think I will?"
"I don't know."
Jude leaned closer.
"I won't."
"Promise?"
"Yes."
Then he walked downstairs.
Bryce Whitmore was waiting in the ballroom.
His friends stood around him while confused guests whispered nearby.
Jude entered.
The room fell silent.
Bryce forced a laugh.
"Mercer. What's this about?"
Jude stopped ten feet away.
"Audrey Sinclair."
Bryce's face changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
"I don't know who that is."
Jude nodded toward Victor.
A large screen behind the orchestra illuminated.
Security footage began playing.
Audrey walking through the corridor.
Bryce blocking her.
Bryce striking her.
Two men grabbing her.
The ballroom became completely silent.
Jude watched Bryce.
"Would you like another opportunity to tell me you don't know who she is?"
Bryce swallowed.
"She was rude."
Jude stared at him.
"That's your defense?"
"She attacked us."
Victor changed the footage.
Another camera angle appeared.
Audrey running upstairs, one arm hanging uselessly.
A woman in the ballroom gasped.
Bryce looked around.
His confidence was disappearing.
Then he made his biggest mistake.
"My father will destroy you."
Jude smiled.
It wasn't friendly.
May you like
"Call him."
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