Chapter 3 - The Story They Sold
Adrian guided Mara through a curtained alcove while his father's guards argued about the broken lights. Behind the velvet was a narrow service corridor that smelled of polish and hot bread. It was the first place all night where Mara could hear herself think.
"I need you to tell me why you came," Adrian said.
"You know why."
"I know the name of a convicted man. I don't know what you want from me."
She unfolded the envelope. Inside was a photograph of a soot-streaked hallway, a copy of an old building plan, and the last letter Daniel Keene had sent from prison. Mara handed over the letter, not the photograph.
Adrian read aloud, quietly: "'If the pump had been off, the pressure gauge would have stayed at zero. Ask them why they removed the gauge before the investigators arrived.'"
"My father wrote that six weeks before he died," Mara said. "He also said a man named Pike was there the night of the fire. Your father's head of security is Owen Pike. Same man. Different uniform."
Adrian stared at the page. "Pike worked for a private contractor then. My father told me he helped people get out."
"Eleven people didn't get out."
"I know the number."
"You know a number. I know their names."
His jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. Beyond the corridor, a muffled announcement urged guests to remain calm. Someone had restored power to half the ballroom.
Adrian said, "The foundation bought Mercer House last year. We're supposed to announce its demolition tonight."
"I know. That's why I'm here. Once that building comes down, the pump room and the stairwell locks disappear with it."
"You think there's still evidence after eleven years?"
"I think somebody is very worried I might find it."
A service door opened. A gray-haired housekeeper pushed a trolley into the passage. She studied Mara, then Adrian, then the key clenched in Mara's hand.
"Fourteen," the housekeeper said. "That's not a room at all."
"What is it?" Mara asked.
"A drawer in the old acquisition archive. They moved the boxes from Mercer House here when the Bellamys bought the property. Mr. Bellamy ordered every drawer sealed on Monday."
"And where's the archive?"
The woman's eyes darted toward the ceiling. "North gallery, behind the mirrored wall."
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A heavy footstep sounded at the far end of the corridor. The housekeeper gripped her trolley.
"If you go there," she whispered, "don't let Mr. Pike see your face. He already has Jonah."
