Page 57 of Once Broken
Riley returned to Ann Marie’s side.Sarah’s voice continued to flow through the speakers, engaged in what sounded weirdly like a film studies lecture about the innovative cinematography in her grandfather’s work.
“I’m going in through the back,” Riley murmured, her mouth close to Ann Marie’s ear.“Keep her talking as long as you can.Ask about specific scenes, technical details—anything that might appeal to her pride in her grandfather’s work.Or … well, anything else you can think of.”
Then with a smile, Riley added, “Use your people skills.”
“But how are you going to get through the door?”Gillian asked.
Riley reached into her handbag for a familiar leather case—a lock pick kit.
“Funny,” she murmured.“The same way the killer got into The Velvet Screen to kill Crystal Keene.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Ann Marie watched Riley disappear through the door, Officer Rodriguez following close behind.She turned back to the microphone, acutely aware that a woman’s life now hung in the balance of her ability to maintain Sarah Brooks’ attention.
Sarah’s voice was flowing through the speakers in a passionate monologue about her grandfather’s innovative use of darkness and light.“Critics at the time dismissed it as mere stylization, but it was pure visual poetry.”
“That’s fascinating, Sarah,” Ann Marie interjected when Sarah paused for breath.“Did your grandfather discuss his techniques with you, or did you learn about them through studying his films?”
“Both, in a way,” Sarah replied.“My mother showed me his films.Later, I found his personal journals.His thoughts on visual storytelling.It was like having conversations with him.”
The conversation was nothing short of surreal—all about cinematic aesthetics while a woman’s life was in danger.But Ann Marie understood Sarah’s mindset.She was hungry to the point of desperation for anyone to talk to about her grandfather’s work, a topic that must have been a driving obsession since childhood.
She was also so frantic in her desire for revenge that she was easily distracted.Though mentally competent in her day-to-day life, right now Sarah was not in her right mind.Ann Marie had witnessed similar behavior in people deranged with grief in her father’s mortuary.
Ann Marie glanced at her watch.Riley had been gone less than five minutes.How long would it take to pick that lock?How much more time did Lucy Morgan have?
“That’s remarkable,” Ann Marie said, injecting warmth into her voice.“To have that kind of connection with your grandfather’s artistic vision.His work seems to transcend simple entertainment—there’s something almost...sacred about the way you describe his approach.”
“Sacred is precisely the right word, Agent Esmer.”Sarah’s voice took on a reverent quality.“Cinema at its best is a religious experience.It transforms the mundane into the profound.My grandfather understood that.”
Ann Marie wondered how long she could keep this conversation going before Sarah’s craving for vengeance reared its head again.It was a dangerous game, and the stakes were life and death.
***
Crouched before the weathered service door, Riley unrolled her small leather case to reveal the collection of slender metal tools nestled in their individual pockets.
“I need absolute silence,” she whispered to Rodriguez, who nodded and stepped farther back.
Riley inserted a tension wrench into the bottom of the keyhole, applying gentle pressure as she eased the hook pick into the upper portion.The lock was a heavy-duty deadbolt.Its newness made it both more complex in mechanism and harder to manipulate, the internal components stiff and unyielding.
The first pin clicked into place, a subtle vibration Riley felt more than heard.She adjusted the tension slightly, probing for the next pin.Sweat beaded along her hairline.Each second that passed was another moment Lucy Morgan spent in terror, another moment Sarah Brooks came closer to completing her third act.
The second pin resisted, then yielded.Then the third.But the old lock still fought her—decades of grime and corrosion making the pins sluggish.
“Come on,” she murmured, barely audible even to herself.
The fourth pin clicked into place, followed quickly by the fifth.Riley held her breath as she felt the cylinder begin to turn.She rotated the tension wrench gently, and the deadbolt slid back with a dull thunk.
She eased the door open a fraction of an inch, pausing to listen for any reaction from inside.Nothing.Just the distant, muffled sound of voices that had to be Ann Marie and Sarah over the PA system.
Riley drew her service weapon and held it at the ready position.She gestured for Rodriguez to maintain his position outside, then eased through the narrow opening.
She found herself in a dimly lit storage area at the rear of the soundstage.Props and partial set pieces loomed all around her.Ann Marie’s voice—calm, conversational—came through speakers mounted high on the walls.Sarah’s responses echoed with the slight distortion of the PA system.
Riley moved forward silently, navigating through the backstage maze.Ahead, a gap between two large set pieces revealed an area of brighter light.When she reached the gap and peered cautiously around the edge, the sight stole her breath.
The church set was magnificent in its detail—gothic arches soaring toward the soundstage ceiling, faux stained glass illuminated from behind to create the illusion of daylight, wooden pews arranged in perfect rows leading to an ornate altar.Work lights hung from the ceiling, bathing the scene in harsh, unforgiving illumination.
