I exit on the ground floor and go to the security room at the back of the building. As soon as I enter, I can feel the change in atmosphere. The other six security officers currently in the room—two women and four men—watch me enter, and the expression on their faces reinforces the seriousness of the message that Rick told me about. The department head, Ella Brown, is there too. She’s in her fifties, tall, with gray hair pulled back in a bun. She’s somewhat stern, with thirty years of security work under her belt, and she knows her stuff.
“Let’s see it,” I tell them. Rick hasn’t yet forwarded the message to my phone, so I wait for him to pull it up on his big computer.
Instead, Ella says, “Come with me, would you?” She walks away, toward her office.
I glance at Rick, who meets my eyes but doesn’t say anything, and then follow her.
“Close the door,” she says once we’re inside, and she gestures at the chair in front of her desk.
I sit, frowning. “What’s going on?”
“I think Rick told you we received a category A message?”
I nod. We categorize emails, texts, and any other messages via social media either A, B, or C. Cs are standard and non-threatening, maybe a comment on a picture on Instagram,something that anyone else might say, like “Love the dress!” or “Beautiful day.” Category B messages are more personal, leaning toward suggestive, and often reflect a personal knowledge of the principal or her movements. So something like “Saw you at the Korero offices this morning,” or “I prefer you in the red dress with the bow,” when it’s not featured in the photo.
Category A messages are considered threatening or intimate. They include anything relating to something that nobody else could have known unless they’d seen her personally, implying he was present and close to her. Anything about her personal features, her hair or figure. A also includes anything threatening, although there haven’t been any of those yet.
“Yes,” I reply. “He actually said ‘A Plus’. I wasn’t sure what that meant, because he didn’t forward it to my phone.”
“No, I asked him not to. I don’t want this photo doing the rounds—not that I’m implying you’d forward it on, but…” She makes an impatient sound in the back of her throat. “You’ll understand when you see it.”
“How was it sent?”
“By text. The message said ‘Midnight Beauty.’” She taps on her laptop, then turns it around.
It’s a photo of Aurelia lying on her front on a bed. The duvet is draped over her lower half, but she’s bare from the waist up. Her arms are tucked beneath the pillow, and the curve of her breast is just visible. Her glorious red curls spill out from her like flames licking at the pillow. Her skin is milky white, although her cheeks are flushed. Her eyes are closed.
I look at Ella, who’s waiting for my reaction.
“Fuck,” I say.
She gives a humorless smile. “This kinda changes things, don’t you think?”
“Yeah…”
“We haven’t called the police yet, although I think we should. And we should inform the family, and discuss whether it’s time to tell Aurelia. Then we need to discuss increasing the security presence at her apartment. We’ll raise the protection level to amber, obviously.”
While she’s talking, I lean forward and pull the laptop toward me. My heart is thudding hard and fast, but I force myself to focus on the details and look at the photo critically. I deliberately avoid looking at her body. I don’t think about someone being there, in the room, taking such an intimate photo of her while she sleeps. Of what might have happened if he’d chosen to touch her.
Instead, I look at the bedding, the headboard, and the wall behind her. Eventually, Ella falls quiet.
“What have you seen?” she asks.
“I don’t think this is her bedroom.”
Ella’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out for a moment. She sits up slowly. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. You instructed me to check out her apartment before letting her in each evening, so I went in last night. Her bedding was lilac with purple flowers. This one’s navy.”
“She could have changed it since this was taken.”
“True, but her walls are light-pink. This one is blue. And her headboard is padded—this one’s made from wooden slats.”
Ella flops back in her chair. “I was so shocked at the escalation that I didn’t consider it wasn’t taken in her room. Christ, talk about rookie error. I haven’t had enough time to examine it. So… where was it taken?”
“It has blue walls and navy bedding. I know women can like the color blue, but she’s a girly girl—her living room is all pinks, purple, and oranges. The mood of this room is masculine.” I lean forward again. “What’s that on her wrist?”
“I assumed it was a bracelet.”
