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“Detective Neil Thomas.” I aim for the passenger side and slowly slide in, even as spears of pain rocket through my torso, and fire burns all the way down to my fingertips.No pain meds, Archer. No cotton brain.“He’s the only cop alive who saw Holly’s body the night she died. We need to ask him about the missing documentation.”
“Well, shit.” Hopping in and starting the car, Fletch brings us out of the parking space and toward the exit. “That’s gonna be a fun conversation. I’m sure the ex-con ex-cop will be super pleasant about being questioned, and very forthcoming with his information. And just for shits and giggles, since I didn’t look,” he tosses the file into my lap, “who was the medical examiner on this case?”
I don’t need to open the folder, because I already know. It affects Minka, which means it was one of the first things I checked.
“Doctor Chant.”
MINKA
“Let’s talk about Holly Wade.” I have no body to study, no bones to examine. I have no tests to run, and nothing sitting in the lab awaiting results.
But I have Archer’s notes, and an unquenched desire to figure out why my predecessor didn’t do her job correctly.
“Follow me.” I wave Aubree away from her desk and toward the elevators. “Where are the archives held in this building?”
“Uh… in our computers.” Chasing after me, Aubree’s sneakers squeak against the stark white tile as we approach the steel doors. Her jeans sparkle in the sunlight coming through our glass walls, and her hair, tied in a half knot at the top of her head, swings as she catches up just as I press the elevator button. “Everything is digital now, Doc. I thought you’d know that already.”
“Not this one.” Stepping in, I turn again and wait for her to follow. “I’ve checked, and Holly’s name isn’t digital. I have more security clearance than anyone in this entire building, and still, my codes won’t pull up her file. So that leads me to believe it’s sitting somewhere in a cardboard box. So,” I wave a hand toward our options, “where would boxes like those be stored?”
“Basement.” She smacks the corresponding button and steps back to fold her arms. “But that doesn’t mean anything will be down there. If Chant or anyone else wanted the case buried, then all they had to do was shred what they had. Holly’s case was closed a long time ago. No one has missed her in all that time, and if it wasn’t for Fletch eeny-meeny-miny-moe’ing her file, I doubt anyone would care now.”
“But he did. Andwedo.”
Stepping off the elevator when we reach our floor, I stop and look around. Storage lockers on one end, and transport vans parked at the other. The floor is concrete, the walls are brick, and the closer I look at the edges, the more moisture I find.
Moisture is to paper what cancer is to the human body.
“We need to clear all of this out.” Taking my cell from my pocket, I go straight to my call log and dial. “We need to get it all out today, and digitized.”
“This is Seraphina Lewis.”
“Hey.” I turn and follow Aubree when she decides which direction we’re going. “I’m in the basement right now where paper records are supposedly kept.”
“Ohhhkay…” Phones trill on her end of the line. Professionals chatter and plan and probably gossip about nail art. “I’m not sure why you’re telling me this.”
“We need each and every file moved.” I stop behind Aubree and scowl when she effortlessly opens a storage container. There’s no padlock on it… Not even a chain. Not a single ounce of security for confidential files. “I don’t know whose job that is, but it’s been delegated to you.”
“Can I delegate it to someone else?” Heels. Tight skirts.Don’t make me do manual labor. It’s bad for my skin.“Please?”
“I just need it done. Today.”
“Damn. It’s dark in here.” Taking out her own phone, Aubree turns on the flashlight and tiptoes inside the giant steel box ahead of me. “Careful where you step,” she murmurs for me. “There’s a lip.”
“Yeah.” Then, “Seraphina?”
“I’ll get it organized right now. Where do you want everything moved?”
“I don’t really care.” Following Aubree into the dark, I move slowly, carefully, to avoid the ER visit that’ll come if I trip. “Just get them out of here and somewhere dry. Then we’ll get them digitized and safe. Deal?”
“Sure. I’ll get it started now.”
“Thanks.”
Hanging up, I bring my phone away from my ear and navigate to the flashlight, then I cast a bright glow across a wall of cardboard. Storage boxes, stacked ten high. But the moisture eating away at them means the towers crumble on themselves. Walls break down, so the boxes tumble to the floor. Lids pop off, resulting in random wads of paper sitting askew, exposed and rotting away.
“Shit.” I look around at the insurmountable mess, unsure where to start. On the stack to my left, or the stack to my right? What about the twelve rows straight in front of me? “Jesus, Aubree.”
“I never really thought about all these being down here.” She wanders forward, careful, as she approaches a collapsed box whose guts are spilled out in front of her. “I never had to. Chant never asked us to retrieve anything in all the time I’ve worked here.”
