CHAPTER 21 #3
Ruth deleted emails because her professional compromise might destroy her.
Every lie mattered.
None completed the murder.
Marcus did.
Ellis closed the evidence report.
“I need a full reconstruction statement from you.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“What part?”
“The material timeline.”
“You already have it.”
“I have pieces.”
“What do you want?”
“Your professional sequence from 6:31 to the obstruction.”
Romy understood.
Not amateur deduction.
Her actual expertise.
She sat.
Ellis placed the photographs in order.
6:31.
Romy’s image.
Gap correct.
6:51:27.
Volunteer image.
Gap still open.
6:52:11.
Marcus with warmer, felt, and now visible green acquisition folder.
6:56.
Reflected profile suggesting the panel had moved inward.
Then the found condition.
Felt from Marcus’s roll packed into the required airflow space.
Anika’s torn-edge physical match.
Romy spoke carefully.
“The panel was installed with a six-millimetre spacer to preserve airflow through the transfer grille.”
Ellis wrote.
“At 6:31, the spacer is correctly visible.”
“Yes.”
“At 6:51:27, despite the different viewpoint, the panel remains visibly spaced from the wall.”
“Yes.”
“So neither Celeste’s known 6:44 visit nor Adrian’s 6:48 door adjustment accounts for the obstruction.”
“Correct.”
“At 6:52, Marcus is the first documented person entering the relevant service area after the final confirmed intact condition.”
“Yes.”
“He carries felt later physically matched to the obstruction.”
“Yes.”
“Then by the post-incident scene the panel has been forced inward by felt torn from that roll.”
“Yes.”
Ellis stopped writing.
“That timeline gave us something witness interviews could not.”
Romy blinked.
“What?”
“A fixed material sequence.”
She said nothing.
“People lied about where they were. Forgot. Changed details. Protected themselves. The room did not.”
Romy looked at the photographs.
“That sounds like Anika.”
“It is also true.”
“You’re complimenting me.”
“Do not make this difficult.”
“I need to understand the event.”
Ellis exhaled.
“Your documentation broke the Celeste theory.”
“Yes.”
“And your insistence on material timing put Marcus after the last intact image.”
“Yes.”
“That mattered.”
The words should not have felt personal.
They were professional.
Still, for most of their first case together, Ellis had treated Romy’s involvement as a hazard to manage.
Often correctly.
Now he was telling her that her work had contributed something his interviews could not.
Not intuition.
Not stubbornness.
Expertise.
The distinction meant more than she expected.
“Thank you.”
Ellis looked almost uncomfortable.
“Good.”
Leo stared at both of them.
Romy turned.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Your face says something.”
“I have learned not to comment.”
“Excellent.”
An officer appeared at the door.
“Sir.”
Ellis stood.
The officer handed him an update from the Fenn Found search.
More documents.
More matching file references.
Enough to support a warrant application for Marcus himself.
Ellis read it.
Then took out his phone.
Romy knew before he spoke.
“You’re arresting him.”
“We are moving now.”
“Here?”
“Hotel first.”
“Can I.”
She stopped.
Not because Ellis interrupted.
Because she had not finished the sentence.
Can I come?
Old instinct.
Marchmont instinct.
Be near the confrontation.
See the face.
Force the answer.
Romy closed her mouth.
Ellis noticed.
“Good decision.”
“Do not ruin it.”
He left with two officers.
Leo packed the photographs.
Romy stood by the window.
The station car park looked ordinary.
Grey sky.
Wet pavement.
A delivery driver carrying a box through the side gate.
Everything was nearly solved.
Pattern House might survive.
Sebastian’s final minutes made sense.
Marcus had motive, means, timing, physical evidence, and the documents that kept Sebastian in the Blue Study while the delayed method worked.
For the first time, Romy could imagine the case closing without another contradiction opening.
Her phone rang twenty-three minutes later.
Ellis.
She answered immediately.
“Well?”
Silence.
Romy’s stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
“We’re at the hotel.”
“And?”
“Room empty.”
She stood straighter.
“Maybe breakfast.”
“Luggage gone.”
“When?”
“Front desk says he checked out early.”
“How early?”
“Before seven.”
“Destination?”
“Didn’t give one.”
“Car?”
“His private car is gone.”
Not the van.
The van was police evidence.
Marcus had another vehicle.
Romy looked at Leo.
He had gone still.
“Phone?”
“Off.”
“Home?”
“Team going there.”
“Office?”
“Covered.”
Romy closed her eyes.
Marcus knew pressure was tightening.
Ruth had spoken.
The van had been searched.
The felt roll was gone.
The charcoal cartridges were gone.
Perhaps he understood what those warrants meant before police finished comparing anything.
“Ellis.”
“Yes.”
“He’s running.”
“I know.”
The line went quiet for one second.
Then Ellis said, “Stay where you are.”
Romy looked at Leo.
At the numbered provenance pages.
At the photograph of Marcus carrying the green folder into Asterleigh.
She did not argue.
“I will.”
Police moved to arrest Marcus Fenn.
But Marcus had already left his Merewick hotel.