A Waltz With Wolves (Book II in The Harrison Inc. Series) | ✓

Chapter Forty-Four: Trusting Monsters

**
As I slip on my dress that I have saved for tonight's Quintanilla Christmas party, I think of Oma, Sebastian's Grandmother.

I think of the palm reading she had given me close to a month ago during Thanksgiving. Everything she has said is slowly becoming factual, and I wish it weren't.

I want a sense of normality. I want to feel like I can wake up without feeling like I can't breathe. I want to live without feeling as if I need to look over my shoulder or question everyone's intentions. But that isn't my life. Not anymore. In a sense, I chose this route myself, and I need to live with it and the gradual abyss it's dragging me into. But I can't go down without a fight; I refuse to be utterly powerless. My endeavors—independent endeavors—start with finding out who put the camera in my office. I have an idea already—Alejandro. It would explain his odd behavior the last several months. Only question that remains is why he would put it in my office?

I look down at my own palm as if I can read it myself; as if the lines and triangles have shifted in my favor, but sadly, everything is ultimately the same—a reminder of my dark fate. I'm always so practical, but now that practicality has diminished as the world around me caves in the exact way Oma predicted.

I take a deep breath, staring at the accents on my cream-colored dress in the mirror, and add the finishing touches to my outfit, which include red lipstick and a quick touch up of my hair with the curling iron. Tonight, no matter what happens, I will work against my dark fate. I will prevail against whatever danger Claude has warned me about.

And it all starts with this tiny little fucking surveillance camera.

I called Skippy, one of Harrison Incorporated's (former) private investigators earlier this morning. It went straight to voicemail, in which I left an urgent message detailing the severity of my inquiry, but not too much as to give it all away over the phone. Inspecting the camera (which ended up cracking when it fell along with my owl figurine), I noticed a serial number on the bottom, printed small but not small enough as to not be decipherable. Now, as I gather my clutch purse and slip on my heels, I wait anxiously for his call back.

And like clockwork, he does.

I answer the phone quickly. "Skippy. I'm glad you returned my call."

"I'm sorry I couldn't get to it earlier, I was busy with freelance stuff. Your voicemail sounded pretty serious, though."

I exhale slowly. "Yeah, it's...it's about something I found."

"What is it?"

"A...a small camera thing," I explain. "A surveillance camera. It was wedged into my owl figurine in my office, and when it fell and broke, I found it in the eye. I noticed there is a serial number on the back, and I was wondering if you could help me figure out where this came from."

"Well, sure. I can try. Just send me a picture of the serial number."

"Thank you so much, Skippy."

"No problem."

We end our call, and I quickly send him the photo he needs before deleting it from my text and photo records. I then place the camera back into my clutch and start for the door. I say goodbye to Pedro, as if it's the last time I'll see him in a while.

Who knows.

**

Darcy and I arrive at the party together, a quarter to eight. The house is already filled with guests, music and laughter. The driveway is packed, every car checked by the security guards. Our car is let in without an issue, and the driver pulls up to the wide-open doors of the Quintanilla manor, where everyone's invitations are checked thoroughly before entry. I show the security guard my I.D., and he lets us in ahead of everyone else in line. Inside, festive holiday music is playing from a surround system as people mingle on the first-floor foyer, admiring the beautifully lit Christmas tree that stands tall above us all. Waiters glide through the crowd with champagne glasses on trays, and Salvador looks over the entire event on the balcony of the second floor, his posse close beside him. I notice the features of his aged face are a lot more serious as he scans the party with his dark eyes, but quickly, he remembers where he is, and smiles at the guests waiting to be introduced to the Colombian royalty standing before them.