Chapter 3 - MITCHELL WALKED INTO TABLE SEVEN
Mitchell came to the Velvet Onyx that afternoon.
He did not know Harper was alive in Gabriel’s home.
He knew only that she had disappeared during her shift.
Henry called Mateo from the kitchen.
“He’s here.”
Gabriel almost smiled.
“Put him at table seven.”
Mitchell Reed sat where Alderman Brooks had sat the night before.
His expensive coat remained buttoned.
The square signet ring shone on his right hand.
Gabriel entered alone.
Mitchell stood immediately.
“Boss.”
“Sit.”
He did.
Gabriel poured two glasses of water.
No whiskey.
Mitchell noticed.
“Where’s Harper?”
Gabriel looked at him.
Mitchell laughed awkwardly.
“Henry said she got sick.”
“She did.”
“I’ve been calling.”
“I know.”
Mitchell’s eyes sharpened.
“How?”
A mistake.
Small.
Gabriel let it pass.
“She collapsed beside my table.”
Mitchell rearranged his expression into concern.
“Jesus. Is she okay?”
Gabriel studied him.
A good liar usually added detail.
Mitchell did.
“She doesn’t eat enough. I keep telling her. She works herself to death.”
There it was.
A narrative prepared in advance.
Fragile Harper.
Unstable Harper.
Careless Harper.
“What happened to her face?”
Mitchell’s fingers stopped.
“What?”
“Bruises.”
A pause.
Then a sigh.
“Gabriel.”
He lowered his voice.
“This is embarrassing.”
Gabriel waited.
“Harper drinks.”
Interesting.
“She falls.”
More interesting.
“She gets emotional.”
Of course.
Mitchell leaned closer.
“I love her, but she can be difficult.”
Gabriel looked at his hand.
The ring.
Mitchell noticed.
He moved it beneath the table.
Too late.
“Take off the ring.”
Mitchell frowned.
“What?”
“The signet.”
“Why?”
“Take it off.”
Mitchell slowly removed it.
Gabriel placed his hand palm-up.
Mitchell hesitated.
Then dropped the ring into it.
Gabriel looked at the square face.
He imagined metal heated.
Pressed against skin.
His stomach turned.
“When did you last see Harper?”
“Yesterday morning.”
Lie.
Gabriel knew from Harper that Mitchell had been home the previous night.
“How was she?”
“Fine.”
Another lie.
Gabriel placed the ring on the table.
Mitchell looked toward it.
“Did something happen?”
Gabriel met his eyes.
“That’s what I’m trying to understand.”
Mitchell nodded too quickly.
“Anything I can do.”
Gabriel almost admired the confidence.
Men who lied for years sometimes forgot truth remained possible.
“Go home.”
Mitchell blinked.
“That’s it?”
“For now.”
“What about Harper?”
Gabriel picked up the ring.
“She’ll contact you when she wants to.”
Fear appeared.
Real fear.
“She’s with you?”
Gabriel said nothing.
Mitchell stood too fast.
His chair scraped.
“Boss, whatever she said—”
“I didn’t say she said anything.”
Mitchell froze.
Gabriel watched his face collapse inward for a fraction of a second.
Then rebuild.
“Right.”
He forced a smile.
“I’m worried.”
“Go be worried at home.”
Mitchell left.
Mateo entered through the private corridor.
“He’s panicking.”
“Yes.”
“What now?”
“We watch what panic makes him touch.”
That evening Mitchell accessed three corporate accounts he had not opened in months.
He attempted to move money.
He called a document-service firm in the Cayman Islands.
Then he contacted a federal agent.
Gabriel’s legal counsel identified the agent as Daniel Sullivan, part of a financial-crimes task force investigating several Chicago organizations.
Mateo frowned at the report.
“He’s talking to the feds?”
“Maybe insurance.”
“Dead man’s switch.”
Gabriel looked at him.
“Probably.”
“You want him picked up?”
“No.”
Mateo’s frustration showed.
“You keep saying no.”
“And we keep learning things.”
Fair.
Mitchell returned home.
Harper was not there.
He tore through the apartment.
Gabriel’s security team documented the movement from outside.
At 1:12 a.m., Mitchell removed a lockbox from beneath a floorboard.
At 1:40, he left.
He drove to a storage facility.
At 2:18, he emerged carrying nothing.
Gabriel’s people did not follow him inside.
They photographed.
Documented.
May you like
Waited.
Gabriel was learning patience from a woman sleeping three rooms away.
