Chapter 6

The frozen frame sent two people from HR to the front desk Friday night.

The counter behind the desk was bare.

No ring. No silver pen. No Leland.

They found the pen in his desk drawer, clipped to a folder.

The ring was under the folder, in a lost-and-found envelope that still had Wednesday's date on it.

By Saturday morning it sat in a clear bag in the middle of the executive table.

Five people sat around it.

Vinnie, out of the gray uniform now, in a plain blue blouse.

Ilene beside her with the folio.

Leland across the table, no pen on his pocket this morning.

The hotel's HR director at the head, a legal pad open in front of her.

And a woman from the ownership group who'd flown in at dawn, quiet so far.

Devon stood by the door, because nobody had told him he could sit.

The HR director tapped the bag.

"Mr. Gaskin. This came out of your desk. Explain it."

Leland didn't look at the bag.

"That video is doctored," he said. "The bellman had all night with that phone. You can drop anything onto a desk in an edit."

"That's a serious claim."

"So is accusing a twenty-year man." Leland's chair creaked as he leaned forward. "He's twenty-three with a grudge and an afternoon of free time. He faked the whole thing. I want him gone today."

By the door, Devon's hand tightened on the strap of his bag.

He didn't say anything.

Ilene opened the folio and set a printed page in front of the HR director.

"The file wasn't cut," she said. "The phone wrote one continuous recording, time-stamped 6:49 to 7:16 p.m. Thursday. No gaps. No second file. Your own IT can read the metadata, and I've asked them to start this morning."

"Metadata can be edited too," Leland said.

"Not by a bellman on a phone," the woman from the ownership group said. She hadn't looked up from the page. "That takes equipment and a reason."

Ilene set the brass key on the table.

It landed with a small flat sound on the wood.

"And this. Serial SV-1901. Printed in the addendum your seller signed two months ago as the owner's inspection key. Delivered to my client. It never left her cart or her hand."

The woman from the ownership group picked up the addendum.

She read it. She turned the key over and read the stamp.

She looked at the key. She looked at Vinnie.

"The key matches our file," she said. "Ms. Drayton is the buyer of record."

Leland's mouth opened and closed.

He looked around the table for someone to hand him a different answer.

Nobody did.

"Then she's been lying to every person in this building for a week," he said. "Under a false name. That's not ownership. That's a stunt."

"She's been cleaning rooms," the HR director said. "Under a temp badge the agency issued."

She closed her folder.

"Mr. Gaskin, as of now you're suspended with this under review. Turn in your keys and your pass before you leave the floor."

Leland didn't move.

"Your keys," she said.

He dug them out of his pants pocket and set them on the table, one at a time.

The pass came off his neck and landed beside them.

"The closing stays frozen until HR finishes," the owner's rep added. "Monday at the earliest. I won't sign a transfer in the middle of a theft review, for anyone's sake."

Vinnie spoke for the first time since the bag was opened.

"Monday's fine," she said.

Leland stared at her.

"You're not going to say anything?"

"There's nothing to say to you," she said. "I've got a man in a hospital bed to get back to."

Leland stood.

His chair scraped back across the floor.

He looked at the ring in the bag, then at the boy by the door.

He raised his arm and pointed across the room.

"He planted it," Leland said.