Page 105 of The Bridesmaid
I don’t risk a glance at Ophelia, but I notice her chest is high like she’s holding her breath.
‘So,’ Dad stands, his voice back to normal, shaking his head like he’s getting himself in the game, ‘you ready to get married?’
Chapter Eighty-four
HOLLY
Fitzwilliam comes to stand at my side, as I hold the documents we found in the wine rack.
Many pages, bound together, in the same kind of format you find legal paperwork. But it isn’t a case file. The front page is official, dated three years ago. Stamped with the logo of Policia National, Republica de Colombia. I frown at the report, trying to fit my high school Spanish to the words.
‘It looks like … a charge sheet,’ I decide. ‘Cargos… I think that’s Spanish for “charges” and the crime issecuestro y tenativa de asesinato. Is that murder?’
‘Attempted murder.’ Fitzwilliam is reading over my shoulder. ‘Kidnap and attempted murder.’
‘Petra Morka,’ I say pointing. ‘Her name is listed.’
‘Sospechosos,’ says Fitzwilliam. ‘I think that’s … suspect. I wish Ortiz were here,’ he murmurs, pushing dark hair from his forehead. ‘OK. So it looks like … Petra Morka was charged. With kidnap and attempted murder. Three years ago.’
‘For Adrianna’s kidnap? Or something else?’
I flip pages. Suddenly Fitzwilliam is tapping my arm frantically.
‘What?’ I look up. The door to the safe room is now standing open, and a figure is halfway down the stair.
It’s Petra Morka. She is holding a gun.
‘Holly Stone,’ she says, ‘and the cop pretending to be her assistant.’
I eye the gun, my heart picking up a beat. ‘It was you,’ I say. ‘You pushed me down the stairs.’
‘Sorry about that,’ she shrugs, not sounding sorry. Petra points. ‘Drop the papers,’ she adds. ‘Now.’
I let them fall. Petra gestures for Fitzwilliam to place them on the bottom step. Keeping her eyes on us, she waits until he backs away, then scoops them up.
Her implacable expression slips briefly when she sees the title of the document. Petra regards them for a moment, then flips to the back page. Her famous jaw sets as she reads. Nothing in her face gives away the slightest emotion.
Then Petra places the papers on the floor in front of her and kneels. Gun held high, she produces a lighter from her pocket, and sets them to flame.
‘Don’t!’ My eyes are glued to the flickering fire. ‘Please,’ I say. ‘Whatever is in those papers, Simone wanted me to find it out.’
‘You?’ Petra’s mesmerizing blue eyes widen fractionally. ‘You think you meant something to Simone?’
She holds the lighter to the bottom of the documents.
‘No!’ Fitzwilliam lunges for the flames, but Petra fires a warning shot. He freezes, halfway across the room, as plaster rains down.
I watch helplessly as the tongues of flame lick at the pages.
‘It was you,’ I say, ‘wasn’t it? You kidnapped Adrianna.’
Petra backs away from the flaming documents, out and up the stairs.
‘You won’t be at the wedding, Holly,’ she tells me, as she closes the door behind her. ‘It took Adrianna three days to escape from here. Somehow, I don’t think you’ll be so lucky.’
Chapter Eighty-five
HOLLY
