Chapter 277
Chapter 277:
“We’ve been through your clothing, Mr. Preston,” Chen said. “There was no recording device.”
A cold realization washed over Herod. “She took it. After she shot me. Before you arrived.”
Morgan’s face remained impassive. “That’s convenient for your story.”
“It’s the truth,” Herod insisted, frustration making his heart rate spike. The machines beside him beeped faster. “Rose Lewis planned and executed the bombings. I knew about them but didn’t stop her. I’m guilty of conspiracy, but she was the one who actually planted the devices.”
“Without evidence, it’s your word against hers,” Chen pointed out. “And you have a strong motive to shift blame.”
Herod felt a wave of despair. Of course, they didn’t believe him. Why would they? Rose had done her job too well, making sure all trails led back to him and him alone.
But then he remembered something—a small detail that might change everything.
“The hotel,” he said suddenly. “The Plaza Hotel.”
Morgan raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”
“Rose established her alibis there during both bombings. Made sure she was visible, surrounded by witnesses.” Herod’s words came faster now, urgent. “But she had to leave at some point. There would be a gap in the security footage. A period when she slipped out, planted the bombs, and returned.”
Agent Chen was writing rapidly now. “We can check the hotel’s security cameras.”
“Not just the main entrances,” Herod added. “Service doors. Fire exits. Rose is smart—she would find a way out that wouldn’t be obvious.”
For the first time, Morgan looked genuinely interested. “Anything else?”
Herod thought carefully. What other evidence might Rose have missed? What other trail might she have left?
Find what you love at gⱯlnσν𝓮ℓs․com
“Her phone,” he said. “She’s careful about communicating, but sometimes she used her regular phone. Check the tower data on the nights of the bombings. It might show her location.”
“We’ll look into it,” Morgan said, noncommittal.
Herod sensed their continued skepticism. He needed something more concrete, something they couldn’t ignore.
“The storage unit,” he said suddenly, the memory surfacing through the fog of pain medication.
“What storage unit?” Chen asked.
“In Queens. Under the name Sarah Miller. Unit 217 at Secure Storage on Vernon Boulevard.” The details came back to him in a rush. “Rose kept supplies there. Equipment. Maybe plans. She thought I didn’t know about it, but I followed her once and saw her using a key with the number on it.”
Now Morgan was taking notes too. “You’re sure about this? Unit 217, Secure Storage, Vernon Boulevard?”
“Yes.” Herod felt a glimmer of hope. “And there’s more. Check her connection to Anton Bessonov—a Russian businessman with ties to organized crime. She bought the explosives through him.”
.
.
.