Chapter 15 - The Fire Alarm
Security footage showed someone entering through the side door with an old service code, taking the lighthouse from the study, and leaving in minutes.
The face was hidden, but the walk was familiar.
“Sloane,” Daniel said.
Asha warned him not to confront Sloane. The missing page was evidence, but the remaining records were still enough to continue the investigation.
Then Denise called with a new discovery. Brightwater had paid a storage company near the river for a private archive unit. The rental contract was in Calvin Pike’s name, but the monthly payments came from a foundation account.
“If there are original records, they may be there,” Denise said. “We need a warrant or the renter’s permission.”
Asha began the process. Daniel wanted to go immediately, but she reminded him that charging into the warehouse could destroy evidence and put him in danger. He agreed to wait.
At midnight, the alarm company called. Smoke detectors had triggered at the Harbor Light storage annex, where old foundation files were kept before digitization. The fire department was already on its way.
Daniel reached the annex as smoke poured from a window. Firefighters carried boxes into the rain while he was ordered to stay back.
“You can’t go in.”
“My wife’s records are inside.”
“And people are working to keep the building standing. Stay back.”
A figure appeared near the loading dock, carrying a plastic bin. Daniel recognized Sloane’s burgundy coat before she turned. She dropped the bin and ran toward a parked car.
“Sloane!” he shouted.
She froze for half a second, then bolted.
Asha grabbed Daniel’s arm before he could follow. “Let the police handle it.”
The officers arrived in time to stop Sloane at the driveway. She insisted she had come to retrieve personal belongings, not destroy records. The plastic bin held folders soaked with lighter fluid. A firefighter found a second container beside the archive shelves.
Sloane looked at Daniel as the officers placed her hands behind her back.
“You don’t know what you’ve done,” she said.
He looked past her at the burning annex, at the workers carrying boxes into the rain, and at the evidence she had tried to erase.
“I know exactly what I’m trying to stop.”
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Then an officer approached with a clear evidence bag. Inside was the blue glass lighthouse, cracked but intact.
Beneath its broken base, a second folded note was visible.
