Page 107 of The Bridesmaid
‘Get behind me, Holly,’ he whispers. ‘We don’t know what could be on the other side.’
I let him push the door a crack, and survey what’s beyond, before sliding his body through. After a moment he beckons me to follow.
I emerge into a very familiar room. Wall-to-ceiling glass, with ocean views all the way over the island.
‘It’s the Tower Suite,’ I say. ‘The Tower Suite connects to the panic room.’ I look back. ‘The wardrobe,’ I add, ‘there was a secret passage hidden behind the wardrobe door.’
I turn back in amazement to see the entrance we just came through seems to have completely vanished.
‘You wouldneverfind that,’ I say, ‘unless you knew it was there.’
‘The police didn’t.’ Fitzwilliam points out. He takes it in.‘Just like you said. Leopold connected his panic room to the suite the family sleeps in.’
‘I guess he wanted to keep his family safe.’
‘Fathers generally do.’
I don’t reply, because this hasn’t been my experience. Not to mention, this seems to go beyond what ‘safe’ means to most people.
‘Adrianna saw a figure wearing a mask out on the balcony,’ I say. ‘Everyone assumed she’d imagined it, because there was no way anyone could have gotten inside. But if someone knew this secret entrance, all they’d need do is run downstairs to the panic room, and come back up this way.’
‘All points to Petra,’ Fitzwilliam says. ‘If she was sleeping with Leopold, it’s likely he would have let her in on the secret entrance, right? So she could sneak into his bedroom after dark, without his daughters seeing?’
‘If it was Petra,’ I point out, ‘she would have known that locking us in the panic room wouldn’t trap us forever.’
‘Petra didn’t figure on you being so smart,’ he says.
I nod, taking in the beautiful ocean view, wondering if Leopold ever appreciated it for anything more than a panoramic heads-up on a possible attack.
‘Leopold Kensington is on a private island, with views in all directions,’ I say. ‘Hires the best security money can buy. And still feels the need to build a concrete bullet-proof bunker underneath where he and his daughters sleep. Doesn’t that seem a little extreme?’
‘Given his daughter was kidnapped, I’d say it was good foresight. Not accounting for how she was snatched, of course.’
I sigh. ‘For all her money and comforts, I wouldn’t want Adrianna Kensington’s life,’ I tell Fitzwilliam. ‘Moving with anarmed guard. Being constantly at risk of kidnap, or robbery.’
Fitzwilliam is looking at the beach.
‘The wedding,’ he says, ‘it’s starting.’
Down in the white sand cove below, the entire beach has been decorated for the wedding. A deep hedgerow of tropical leaves and bright jungle orchids has been created either side of a wide aisle.
Walking down it, a matching outsized bouquet in her hand, is the slim figure of Adrianna Kensington.
At the other end is Mark Li. And standing next to him, the unmistakably tall figure of Petra. Her camera is raised toward the approaching bride.
The blush-colored velvet chairs that surround the bride are empty. There is no celebrant. Two large black speakers take the place of an orchestra.
Mark stands under a two-foot-deep ceremonial archway of vivid flowers and dark green palm leaves, awaiting his bride. Next to him stand Ophelia and Georgia, in their magenta bridesmaid gowns. Petra is taking a relentless flurry of pictures.
I hesitate. Watching Adrianna’s slow progress. A long train trails behind her. Leopold Kensington is at her side, in a brash-looking suit.
‘It’s not a real wedding,’ I tell Fitzwilliam. ‘There’s no one here.’ Something about the staged nature of this has jogged something very sudden and concrete into my mind.
Facts and theories begin to converge. ‘I think we’ve got everything the wrong way around.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Wrongly Accused,’ I tell him. ‘Simone’s show isWrongly Accused. I don’t know how I didn’t put those things together before. I think Simone was trying to clear Petra’s name. And the fingerprint access.If the kidnapper took Adrianna from this room to the panic room, she must have let them in that night.’
