“Imagine the fun we’ll have celebrating our win in this room!” Rebecca said the following day after Cassidy and she checked into Serenade while disguised.
Cassidy's first breath inside the room was heavy with the rich, musky fragrance of midnight blooms—a stark contrast to the clean crispness of the city's night air just beyond the walls.
Above, an imitation of the night sky unfolded in breathtaking detail, each star a delicate point of light against the obsidian backdrop. It was as if they'd been transported onto a spacecraft drifting among the heavens. Luxurious, velvet-draped furniture offered a contrast to the diamond-like brilliance above, while the bed – at the room’s center, was dressed in navy linens embroidered with golden celestial bodies.
“Focus,” Cassidy said as she removed her wig. “We must succeed first.”
Rebecca kicked off her heels and collapsed back onto the bed. “I’m sure everything will go smoothly. Your planning is top-notch, plus Wynn is like, super dependable, right?”
Indeed, she conceded, but her pulse thrummed against her temples regardless. The plan was just a starting point; true preparedness meant anticipating its unraveling. And to accomplish that, she had to establish mission control.
Cassidy unzipped her sleek carrying case, extracted the laptop, and stationed it on a console table just a breath away from an outlet. Once she plugged it in and pressed the on button, the startup chime hummed. The screen flickered to life.
As the laptop’s glow settled into the corners of the room, Cassidy ventured back into the carrying case, this time retrieving a small earbud case. With a swift, seamless motion, she popped open the case, fitted the earbud into her ear, and pivoted back to the laptop. A couple of keystrokes later, the comm system launched.
Stellar, she thought as she scrolled the sidebar to see Wynn, who they had codenamed “Coyote” for this mission, and Crow’s earbuds appear on standby. Everything was proceeding without issue.
Nevertheless, a knot tightened in her stomach.
It was clear that whatever complication would arise fancied itself the main event of the mission. Occurring before they were in the thick of it was obviously too dull for its liking.
Confront that challenge when it presents itself, her more rational side advised as she clicked Wynn’s earbud to active status. “Coyote, how are things faring on your end?”
“Crow and I are just around the corner. Expect us in a moment.”
A love hotel was the last place Wynn wished to be with Crow. He didn’t wish to be there with anyone, but if he had to pick someone, Crow was at the bottom of the list. Nevertheless, he drove to Serenade alongside Crow while reflecting on what Cassidy had told him the previous day.
During the briefing, Cassidy hammered home that keeping things hush-hush for their guests was Serenade’s main game. He realized that she wasn’t blowing smoke about their hush-hush policy when they arrived.
A frosted glass door, devoid of flashy signage, shielded any who entered while still merging seamlessly with the neighboring buildings. The only true sign of its utility was the word “Serenade” posted above the entrance.
With any luck, this won’t turn into a complete disaster, Wynn thought as Cassidy’s latest scheme popped back into his head.
Bureaucracy, of all things, was their way in. Serenade was subject to the same mundane inspections as everyone else, so it provided them with the loophole they needed. Fortunately, this wasn’t the first time they had used such a scheme, and so they already had inspection tools, paperwork, and badges ready.
The final touch of their impersonation was achieved through their choice of clothing. Wynn chose simplicity – a navy polo clung to his frame and complemented his charcoal trousers – while Crow opted for sharp slacks, sleek button-down, a crisp tie, and a pair of rectangular glasses.
“How you handle this suit crap day in, day out is beyond me,” said Crow, who sat beside Wynn in the car, readjusting his tie. His usual style had been brushed aside, replaced by a precise, orderly sweep of hair.
“If you can infiltrate a high-security vault,” Wynn said, “you can survive an hour or so in formal wear. Just smile and follow my lead.”
As Crow continued to battle with his tie, Wynn couldn’t help but shake his head. The fact the girls had managed to make him look respectable was nothing short of a miracle.
“Hey Fox,” Wynn said, his words meant for Cassidy, “we’re at the scene. Have you got a visual?”
“All is as it should be,” Cassidy said, confirming that she could see through the button camera hidden in Crow’s glasses. “I anticipate your success.”
From the car to Serenade’s doorstep, Wynn, briefcase in hand, led the way with Alban a steadfast shadow.
Warm light spilled across Serenade’s reception and illuminated a series of sleek kiosks. Each privacy kiosk stood as islands of seclusion, divided from one another by carved wood.
“Welcome to Serenade,” an AI said with a voice as smooth as silk, “your sanctuary amidst the city’s pace. Please allow me to guide you through a seamless check-in process. If you require any assistance or have any special requests, do not hesitate to ask. Your privacy and comfort are our utmost priorities.”
“Management of Serenade,” Wynn projected, “please be advised that we are here on behalf of the health department. Your immediate attention and cooperation at the reception area is required.”
Minutes ticked by in silence until a discreet elevator door slid open, and a tall man with broad shoulders, clad in a gray suit, emerged into the reception hall.
“Good evening, gentlemen. I’m Henry Fairchild, the manager of Serenade. What brings you here at this hour unannounced?”
“Routine surprise inspection, sir.” Crow flashed his badge. “Standard procedure to ensure compliance with health and safety regulations.”
“There’s a presentation we’ve prepared that explains the scope of our inspection,” Wynn said. “Could we perhaps take this discussion to your office? I’m sure you’d prefer to keep the lobby clear of inspectors.”
Henry offered a curt nod before motioning them to follow him into the elevator. There, he scanned an RFID badge against a discreet panel, prompting a second elevator door to slide open and unveil the pathway to Serenade’s behind-the-scenes. From there Henry led them to a door marked with a simple, unassuming plaque – his office.
This is going way too smooth, Wynn thought as they entered his office, a no-frills environment that prioritized work over warmth, efficiency over aesthetics.
“We appreciate your cooperation in making this process as quick as possible,” Crow said while producing a flash drive from his pocket. “If you could sign into your computer, we’ll begin the presentation and wrap this up promptly.”
Without hesitation, Henry keyed in his credential then offered Crow the simple chair behind his desk with a gesture. Crow seated him and plugged the flash drive into the PC.
A single, unassuming pop-up materialized on Cassidy’s screen with the words “Connection Established.”
“And just like that,” Cassidy said as she clicked the message, “we’re in.”
“Woohoo!” Rebecca, sitting cross-legged on the bed, pumped her fists in the air. “Just as I predicted, you’re too genius for it to go any other way!”
The corners of Cassidy’s mouth lifted slightly, but her concentration remained unbroken. “Let’s see if our prize truly resides here.”
Soft, rapid clicks filled the room as Cassidy delved into the digital labyrinth that was Serenade’s system. Command lines flowed like a river until she reached the registry, at which point she filtered through the dates like a librarian scanning an archive. At each date she checked, she found one name again and again: Samuel Wells.
Cassidy exhaled a ladened sigh. The evidence overwhelmingly suggested that Mari was the true mastermind behind the stabbing. The stabbing, as well as Sam’s confession, would neatly clear her path of any competition during the tournament. That, however, begged one more question: what could possibly compel Sam to agree to imprisonment? Was he so starved for love that he’d sacrifice his freedom for Mari? Or was there another, deeper layer which they were missing?
The key to this problem is likely with Mari, Cassidy concluded. She’d have to face her to unearth the truth. First things first, though, she needed everyone on the same page.
“Gianna’s deduction appears to be on point. Therefore, it logically follows that Andrea is not guilty.”
Rebecca folded her arms across her chest while her glance veered to the floor.
“I'm not entirely convinced,” she said, her voice as taut as a bowstring. “I mean, okay, she might not be the one who did the stabbing, but doesn't that just make her more likely to want Sam out of the picture? After all, he did frame her.”
“Theoretically, that may be the case, but—”
“But?”
“There's still a lot we don't know about Sam's passing. We shouldn’t make hasty assumptions.”
Rebecca’s brow furrowed. “I still think she did it. Or maybe she persuaded her father to do it. It's totally in line with her personality.”
“If that is indeed the case, we’ll confirm it before long. We simply need to exercise patience.”
“I know, I know…” She tugged at one of her curls, stretching it out before letting it bounce back. “It just feels like I’ve been waiting forever for this, you know?”
I get it, Cassidy thought, nibbling on her inner cheek. She shared in the skepticism. Still, she had to keep a level head. Handling power demanded careful consideration.
“…If it turns out we’re wrong about Andrea, what will you do?”
Rebecca's features tightened and a storm of emotions played across her face. Her eyes darkened, her lips pressed into a thin line as if holding back a sea of words unsaid. But as quickly as the storm arrived, it passed. She smoothed her expression and mustered a practiced smile.
“Can we switch off the Andrea talk? It’s all future stuff, and I’m about the here and now. Especially when ‘now’ is us alone in a love hotel.”
The moment stretched as Cassidy maintained eye contact.
Forcing the issue won’t help, she decided as she sealed her eyes. Becca likely just needed some time to sort out her thoughts.
“The ‘now’ you’re suggesting is tempting,” Cassidy said as she shifted her gaze to the screen, “but my ‘now’ involves a bit more monitoring of the situation.”
“Come on, we did what we came for! Don’t you think we deserve a little ‘us’ time?”
“Our success hinges on their safe extraction. Until then, the job is not done.”
Defeat seemed to pull Rebecca’s head down, but then, as if struck by lightning, her head shot up, and she snapped her finger. “I’ve got an idea!”
Cassidy arched her brow as Rebecca slid off the bed with the smoothness of silk draped over skin.
“How’s this sound,” Rebecca said as she sashayed closer with a mischievous glint. “You focus on the mission…” She claimed her spot next to Cassidy on the sofa. “…while I focus on…” With a single finger, she tucked Cassidy's hair, clearing the path to her bare neck and ears. “…making you smile.”
Cassidy’s breath hitched as Rebecca’s tongue – tender, slick, warm – tickled her earlobe like a slow, rolling wave tenderly caressing a shore.
“I can be your relief…” Rebecca whispered. “Just let me.”
A tremble cascaded down Cassidy’s spine while heat bloomed in her cheeks. “…I suppose a little indulgence won't derail things too much – as long as I remain in the loop.”
The “little indulgence” gradually softened the edge of Cassidy’s resolve and, eventually, led her to their bed. She found her place on her stomach, with her laptop ahead of her, while Rebecca straddled her back. Her thighs framed Cassidy’s sides in a gentle claim while her hands wove away the day’s tension.
Just this once, Cassidy thought as tension melted from her shoulders, can everything please proceed without a hitch?
Luckily, destiny had plans to preserve her tranquility for that day. Wynn and Alban executed their guise as health inspectors flawlessly and departed unobtrusively.
Relief coursed through Cassidy like sunlight after a storm. With the mission accomplished, she snapped the laptop shut and gave Rebecca her full, undivided attention.
Why can’t every mission end like this? Cassidy mused as she nestled Rebecca’s breast and listened to the steady, soft drum of her heartbeat beneath her ear.
Limbs intertwined, they lay exposed together, a tangle of arms and legs, with Rebecca's arms wrapped around Cassidy in a supple, snug embrace.
In hindsight, my worries were less warranted than I thought. The fact they were there like that was evidence enough that she had worried over nothing.
Drawing in a deep, leisurely breath, Cassidy was enveloped by the delicate blend of vanilla and lavender still clinging to Rebecca from their recent shower. Then she smiled.
She could afford such moments now. After all, the stage was set, and the pieces aligned. The tennis match was as good as won with the dirt she had on Mari. And if Edward or Andrea were involved in Sam’s murder, they couldn’t hide the truth from her. Her nudge of Crow had armed her with the ultimate weapon against them.
The battle of wits with Crow was, likewise, a mere formality. He was nothing more than the puppet of someone who wouldn’t dare step out of line.
Cassidy shut her eyes, convinced she had everything in hand. However, the moment she woke up, it became clear her control was but a fleeting dream.
The day started with two texts on Cassidy's phone, the first a message from Edan.
Mr. Stein was secured by the police last night.
A smile crept across Cassidy’s lips. It seemed fate conspired with her.
She then proceeded to open the second message, which was sent by Crow.
I got some info last night that’s got a short shelf life. You’re gonna want to make your move before it gets stale.
Cassidy pinched the bridge of her nose. If it truly mattered, why dance around it? Ambiguity served no one.
What do I need to know? she replied.
Before we get into the nitty-gritty of my findings, let’s square away something first: who in the world is Ozonnole?
Part 4 End
