Chapter 18 - The Last Locked Door

Firefighters brought Claire out wrapped in a blanket, coughing but alive. Naomi caught her before her knees gave way. Claire clung to her. Being a Sterling hadn't kept her safe.

"The drive," Claire whispered. "Vanessa went down the service stairs."

The fire commander relayed the description. Officers covered the lower exits while another crew fought the blaze in the server room. Grant was escorted away for questioning.

Vanessa emerged through a loading-bay door twenty minutes later. Her pale coat was streaked with soot. A small black case hung from her shoulder. She stopped when she saw Naomi standing beside Mara and the fire marshal.

"You," Vanessa said, as if Naomi had caused the whole disaster.

"Me," Naomi replied.

"You could've taken the money. You could've gone back to waiting tables."

"You could've opened the door."

Vanessa's mouth tightened. "That woman was stealing company files."

"She was saving lives."

"She was a cleaner."

Naomi took one step forward. Her fingers curled, remembering the gala, the heel, the slap. Vanessa lifted her chin as if expecting another hit.

Naomi opened her hand instead. "You don't get to make me the story this time."

Mara signaled to the officers. The fire marshal had already secured an order preserving the tower's equipment. Vanessa tried to drop the black case into a storm drain, but an officer caught her wrist. Another read her the warrant. Camera phones rose along the loading dock.

"Get those people away!" Vanessa shouted. "I'm Vanessa Sterling!"

"We know," one officer said.

The fire crew recovered the damaged server from upstairs. Independent backup logs, Elena's printout, and Voss's memory card matched. The records showed unauthorized battery storage, repeated warnings, and the remote hold kept active for nine deadly minutes after the alarm. They also showed payments to Weller's consulting company.

As officers led Vanessa to a car, she twisted toward Grant.

"Tell them who approved the insurance claim!" she screamed. "Tell them whose signature bought us another twenty buildings!"

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Grant closed his eyes. Claire looked at him and asked the question he had spent three years avoiding.

"Dad," she said, "how many more doors did you leave locked?"