Her eyes shifted toward the hallway.
“Because the mistakes are not what she’s afraid I know.”
Every muscle in Adrian’s body tightened.
“What do you know?”
Elena stood.
“I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Elena.”
She picked up the tray.
“I need to check on your grandmother.”
She left.
Adrian remained kneeling beside broken porcelain.
That sentence changed everything.
The following morning, Elena did not come to work.
Graham received a text at 5:56 a.m.
Migraine.
Adrian called her.
No answer.
At noon, he drove to the address listed in her employment file.
A modest apartment complex twenty minutes from Myers Park.
Mateo answered the door.
He was skinny, cautious and wore a Charlotte Hornets sweatshirt three sizes too large.
“Is Elena home?”
The boy hesitated.
“Who are you?”
“Adrian Cole.”
Recognition flickered.
“You’re the wedding guy.”
