Chapter 8 - Fire Beneath the Freezer
Detective Brooks ordered everyone toward the western exit.
It did not open.
The electronic lock had been disabled.
Smoke thickened near the ceiling.
Victor pulled at the steel handle.
“It is welded.”
The archive had been designed to survive fire.
We had not.
A maintenance map showed an old refrigeration tunnel beneath the freezer.
The entrance was covered by storage shelves.
Officers dragged them aside.
Behind the shelves stood a circular hatch frozen with rust.
Victor used a metal bar.
The hatch did not move.
I joined him.
For the first time in years, my brother and I pushed in the same direction.
The seal broke.
Cold, stale air entered the room.
We lowered the evidence boxes into the tunnel first.
Detective Brooks sent officers through.
Victor started climbing down.
A section of ceiling collapsed behind him.
Flames rolled across the freezer doorway.
He fell against the ladder and screamed.
His ankle had twisted beneath him.
I pulled him upright.
“Go.”
“I cannot put weight on it.”
I wrapped his arm over my shoulder.
“We move together.”
He laughed through the pain.
“Dad would appreciate the symbolism.”
“Dad should have intervened years earlier.”
“So should we.”
We reached the tunnel as another explosion shook the floor.
The last detective climbed inside.
I followed with Victor.
The hatch slammed shut above us.
The refrigeration tunnel ended near the loading docks.
Firefighters pulled us into the open air.
Cold rain struck my face.
The plant burned behind us.
The evidence survived in sealed containers.
A security camera across the road captured a black sedan leaving moments before the fire.
Dr. Hale sat in the passenger seat.
Margaret drove.
My mother had not fled the state.
She remained close enough to destroy evidence herself.
Victor was taken to the hospital under guard.
Before the ambulance left, he gave Detective Brooks a phone number.
It belonged to Margaret’s private investigator, Owen Crane.
“He arranged the fire.”
“He also installed the cameras in Adrian’s house.”
Brooks traced the number.
Crane’s phone was active near Saint Matthew’s Hospital.
I called Elena’s nurse.
No answer.
I called hospital security.
The line disconnected.
By the time we reached the maternity floor, alarms were sounding.
Leo’s observation room was empty.
A woman in a child-services uniform had removed him using forged transfer papers.
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A security camera captured the elevator doors closing.
Margaret stood inside holding my son.
