Page 43 of Old Money

Both of us are under-slept and jumpy. Jamie plugged Jessie’s thumb drive into his laptop to review Alex’s interview and search the other files for any mention of him.

“It’s weird, right?” I ask again. “You’d think there’d be more coverage on such a slow news day.”

“They only reported him missing yesterday.” Jamie shrugged. “Not much else to cover—as far as they know.”

My head throbs at the thought of it. I haven’t called the Fairview Center, or the Jefferson County police, to tell them about my meeting with Alex—not yet, anyway.

Part of me wants to, immediately. Alex is vulnerable, and on the outs with some very powerful people.

But those are the people who sent him to Fairview—who made the arrangements and paid the fees.

For all I know, they’re up there now, making further arrangements with the county police. I do know they’ve done it before.

“No mention of the car either,” I say, looking back at the television.

Jamie snorts.

“No shit.” He rubs the side of his neck. “No one’s ‘seeking information’ on that car, ‘cause no one’s looking for it.”

I shut my laptop, reaching for my bag. “I’m going to run back to the Alcott. I’ll change and come back to take you to the rental-car place. Okay? Jamie?”

Jamie pauses, leaning closer to the laptop, his eyes fixed on something.

“Huh?” he answers in a distant voice. “Oh, the, uh, yeah.”

“Half an hour, okay?” I hitch my bag up on my shoulder, waving at him. “Okay?”

He shakes his head. “Alice,” he says, a smile spreading on his slightly swollen lips. “I found something.”

“On the drive? There’s nothing about Alex in the—”

“Not Alex.” Jamie shakes his head. “Brody. It’s Brody’s interview.”

Jamie turns the laptop toward me. I skim the page—as bland as I remember it.

“Yeah? There’s no intel here. He didn’t tell them anything.”

Jamie shakes his head.

“He answered the questions as they were asked.”

“Yes, Jamie. That’s generally how interviews work.”

He points to a paragraph toward the bottom of the screen.

“Read it, smart-ass. The second-to-last question.”

I exhale loudly, leaning closer, a tiny swirl of anxious excitement spinning in my stomach.

Offc. McElroy: And from your vantage point, standing in the ballroom, did you observe Caitlin Dale leaving the party?

J. Brody: I did not.

Offc. McElroy: But you did see Patrick Yates leave at some point thereafter?

J. Brody: I did.

“See?” says Jamie quietly.

I shake my head. But then...

“Wait.”

I see it. I think I see it. It’s like an optical illusion that won’t stay in focus.

“The officer thought he was in the ballroom,” Jamie says, standing, unable to hold back any longer. “See? Look at how he phrased it.”

He points to the line.

“ ‘From your vantage point, standing in the ballroom.’ ”

Jamie grins, continuing.

“But that’s not where Brody watches during parties, right? He stands just outside the room.”

Always. Mr. Brody might dip into the ballroom to attend to a member or correct a server’s misstep.

But otherwise, he holds his post just outside the doorway, in the gallery, shifting down the hall in tandem with the party as it progresses from the yellow ballroom, to the green and blue rooms and, finally, to the pink.

“The officer knew Brody supervised,” I say, thinking aloud. “So, he just assumed—”

“And Brody didn’t correct him,” Jamie interjects. “But that’s not the point.”

I picture the scene from above as though looking down into a dollhouse.

“He would’ve been outside the pink room,” I say, my heart speeding up. “He’d have been—”

“At the end of the gallery, right by the basement stairs,” Jamie finishes. “Right fucking there.”

That’s exactly why he stands in the gallery, not the ballroom itself. From there, he can better track the comings and goings. He can spot trouble brewing at the party—or just outside of it.

I turn to Jamie.

“Do you think he could’ve seen all the way to—”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“No question.” Jamie nods. “Standing there, you barely have to turn your head. Just look down and it’s a clear view. You can see the door to the men’s locker room, the supply closet—that whole end of the basement hall. Including... ?”

Jamie grins again, waiting for me to finish the thought.

“Including the north exit,” I say.

The one that leads to the pool.