Limousines lined the circular driveway.
A string quartet played Vivaldi.
Two hundred guests arrived in tuxedos and gowns.
Katherine stood near the grand staircase wearing black Valentino and diamonds.
She greeted judges.
Bankers.
Real-estate developers.
Politicians.
Foundation directors.
Every few minutes, she glanced toward the entrance.
Monica was missing.
At first Katherine found it irritating.
After thirty minutes, insulting.
After one hour, infuriating.
“Where is she?”
Harold shrugged.
“She probably left.”
“She cannot leave.”
Katherine lowered her voice.
“I locked her room.”
Then they heard engines.
Everyone turned.
Five black SUVs entered the driveway.
The quartet stopped playing.
The first SUV carried a PRESS placard.
The second and third had federal plates.
The fourth carried broadcast equipment.
The fifth flashed subdued blue and red lights.
Katherine’s smile vanished.
The first rear door opened.
A woman stepped out.
Katherine stared.
For several seconds, she genuinely did not recognize her.
The stained uniform was gone.
