Chapter 7 - The Locked Pantry
Morning came gray and bitter.
The Caldwell mansion smelled of coffee, cinnamon, and smoke blown in from miles away.
Ethan woke on a sofa with a blanket pulled to his chin and panicked because he could not see Lily.
He found her in the kitchen beside Noah, staring at a bowl of oatmeal.
Neither child had touched it.
"What's wrong?"
Lily whispered, "We're waiting."
"For what?"
"Permission."
Maria stopped at the sink.
Her hands slowly closed around the dish towel.
"You never need permission to eat food I put in front of you," she said.
Noah looked suspicious.
"Even if we ask for more?"
"Especially then."
Ethan sat down, but the smell of oatmeal brought Hope House rushing back.
Steel tables. Plastic bowls. Pike standing near the pantry door.
No seconds until the donor tour is over.
The donors had seen full shelves.
The children had seen padlocks.
Detective Ruiz returned at nine.
"The fire destroyed part of the administrative office, but not everything."
Pike, who had been kept overnight for questioning, sat stiffly across from her.
"And?"
"And the fire started in a locked file room. No electrical source."
Pike shrugged. "Old building."
"The sprinkler valve had also been closed."
No one spoke.
Ruiz turned to Ethan.
"We found a metal cash box under a cabinet. Empty except for this."
She placed a scorched envelope on the table.
Written across the front were the words: MARGARET CALDWELL - PERSONAL.
Margaret's face went white.
The return address belonged to Sarah Reed.
"It was never mailed," Ruiz said.
Pike stood.
"I have no idea how that got there."
"Sit down," Ruiz replied.
He did.
She slid another item onto the table.
A photograph.
It showed Pike shaking hands with Victor Hale at a charity banquet eighteen months earlier.
Pike's calm finally cracked.
"Hope House receives grants from the Caldwell Foundation. I meet donors. That's not a crime."
Margaret looked at him.
"Victor never told me Hope House received our money."
Thomas opened his laptop.
"It receives a lot of it. Almost two million dollars over four years."
Lily dropped her spoon.
"Then why didn't we have food?"
No one answered.
Ruiz's phone buzzed. She read the message and frowned.
"We also found something behind the burned file cabinet. A locker claim ticket. Union Station. Number 318."
Ethan reached into his shoe.
The brass key suddenly felt heavier.
May you like
On one side, beneath years of scratches, were three tiny numbers.
318.
