Chapter 3 - NINETEEN MINUTES
“Lock the east loading door,” Ethan told Noah. “Nothing leaves.”
Noah was already moving.
Marcus reached for his radio.
From the chair, Maya said, “The truck won’t use that door now.”
Ethan turned.
“There’s a service gate behind the greenhouse. Tuesday, I saw tire tracks there.”
“You should stay seated.”
“I can tell you where a gate is while sitting down.”
He paused.
For the first time that morning, she sounded more angry than afraid.
“Fair enough.”
Marcus radioed the second gate.
Dr. Chen arrived seven minutes later. She checked Maya’s pulse and blood pressure, asked when she had last eaten a full meal, and received no clear answer.
“You’re finished working,” she said. “That isn’t a suggestion.”
“I can’t afford—”
“You’re being paid,” Ethan said.
Maya looked at him.
“For the hours you worked,” he added. “And for recovery time.”
His radio crackled.
Noah.
“Truck’s here. Driver says he has a signed disposal order.”
“Whose signature?”
“Yours.”
Ethan stood.
At the service gate, a white box truck idled behind the greenhouse. The driver held a clipboard out his window.
“Look, man, I’m supposed to collect sealed cartons. I don’t know anything else.”
Ethan examined the authorization.
His signature looked convincing.
Too convincing.
He photographed the order and asked the driver to wait while Noah recorded the company information.
Then he walked to the archive.
Sixteen cartons stood beside the door. Each carried a bright orange sticker.
OBSOLETE HOUSEHOLD RECORDS.
Inside the first box were foundation expense reports.
Inside the second were vendor contracts.
The third contained copies of checks written to a company called Harbor House Services.
Ethan recognized neither the name nor the amounts.
Behind him, Margaret said, “Those were approved for routine disposal.”
He hadn’t heard her approach.
“By whom?”
“Your uncle’s office.”
“Then why is my signature on the order?”
“Grant handles these matters for you.”
Ethan lifted a folder.
His father’s charitable foundation funded emergency housing. The pages showed hundreds of thousands of dollars supposedly spent renovating apartments.
He had attended the opening of that housing program.
The building in these invoices wasn’t the building he remembered.
Margaret’s phone vibrated.
She looked down before she could stop herself.
May you like
Ethan saw four words on the screen.
IS THE GIRL GONE?
