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“No,” Kate responds in exasperation. “Look.”
With a sigh, I pay closer attention to the video stream she’s indicating. It shows the door to the women’s restroom, strategically placed so as not to look in but enough to see everyone that crosses the threshold. Sure enough, Kate’s stoic face appears before promptly disappearing into the room.
Kate speeds up the footage until we watch another figure enter and practically throw herself through the doors. For a split second, we see her face.
“Roisin!” I gasp as I lean closer. “You saw her?”
“We had a brief chat, but I didn’t want to intervene too much.” Kate bows her head slightly. “That was my mistake. I thought if I could bring Aimee some good news about her sister, it would cheer her up. I was never planning on interacting with her. But I did, and instead of realizing Roisin needed my help, I just walked away.”
As if on cue, we both silently watch Kate exit the restroom without even a glance over her shoulder.
“My plan was to catch up with her again on the dance floor,” Kate continues. “Except, by the time I got there, I spotted her walking out the door with a scarf wrapped around her head.”
Kate begins closing down windows and scanning through the footage again.
“Then why didn’t you go after her?” I can’t help but feel frustrated by Kate’s lack of awareness.
Kate ignores the bite in my tone. “Because I almost tripped over the bloody Reaper. Any reason you decided to take a nap on the floor?”
“I was attacked!” I reply defensively.
“Did you see who?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know, but I assume Padraic has something to do with it.”
Kate finally pulls up another angle, only this time, the frame shows the view from outside the front doors. A much smaller line of people snakes along the wall and a black limo has parked up on the curve.
“The limo arrived at three-forty-one,” Kate says. “Which is about the same time Roisin left the restroom.”
Something doesn’t add up. “Are you saying she called it?”
“Makes sense, doesn’t it?” Kate replies nonchalantly before turning back to me. “Why?”
“Connor doesn’t have any limos in his fleet,” I breathe.
Kate freezes up too. “It’s not one of ours either.”
As the realization washes over us, I watch in horror as Roisin appears again on the screen, walking directly to the back of the limo.
“Whose car is that?” I practically shout.
“Take down the number. I’ll see if I can zoom in on the plate,” Kate jumps to work immediately, playing about with the camera settings.
By the time the picture goes back to normal, there’s a man slumped against Roisin by the car. The driver then helps them both in, and the three of them drive off into the distance.
“Wait, go back. Who was that guy?” I resist the urge to pull the mouse out of Kate’s hand.
Painfully slowly, the footage rewinds until Roisin is standing outside the limo again. We watch in horror as the man grabs her arm and tries to restrain her.
I see red.
My muscles tense so much that it’s almost painful.
I take in every detail of this man I can make out through the grainy footage—his height, stance, preferred hand, and where he places it on my fiancée’s body.
This man will not live another night.
Then it happens.
