Page 68 of Into the Fire

“It’s what happened from where I was lying.”

I couldn’t fight his memory. I went back to my job.

“Did you know anything about Dante’s gear being touched at any point?”

“No.”

“Have you seen anybody in this loft, or near that tower, who didn’t have a reason to be there?”

“Everybody who comes in here has a reason to be here. That’s what this place is.” He lowered himself back into the chair. “Are we done?”

“For now.”

“Then get out.”

Dante was sitting on the loft stairs. He had to have heard some of it.

“Here,” he said, and held up a water bottle.

I took it, and he held up a sandwich in a paper towel.

“I’m not hungry.”

“I’m not asking.”

I took the sandwich.

“Five minutes,” Dante said.

“We have equipment down.”

“It’s been down for seven hours. It’ll stay down for five more minutes.” He moved over about a foot on the step. “Sit.”

We sat on the loft stairs with only the security light, and I ate the sandwich. No talk. Dante just sat there with his forearms on his knees.

“You asked him,” he said eventually.

“I had to. He’s angry now.”

“He’s allowed that.”

I folded the empty paper towel into quarters.

“You weren’t trying to prove him wrong,” Dante said. “I heard that part.”

I looked at him. “Five minutes are up,” I said.

Dante checked his watch. “Three and a half.”

“Close enough.”

“Sometimes you’re exhausting, Boone.”

I stood, and he walked with me across the yard to the tower.

We ran a drop cord out from the shed and hung a work light off the bottom of the tower. I photographed everything where it lay before either of us touched anything.

Then Dante climbed to the second station and removed the unbroken piece from the cable so we had something intact to put beside it.