Chapter 7 - THE STORAGE ROOM
The records warehouse sat behind an industrial strip near Elk Grove Village.
By the time we arrived with investigators, smoke was already coming from a rear door.
Firefighters entered first.
Nobody played hero.
We waited in freezing rain while black smoke rolled into the parking lot.
June stood beside me with her arms crossed tightly.
'All those files,' she whispered.
'There are backups.'
'Some things don't get backed up.'
She was right again.
Paper complaint forms.
Handwritten notes.
Original signatures.
A firefighter emerged carrying a metal lockbox.
Another team found a man unconscious near the back office.
He was alive.
His badge identified him as Calvin Ross, payroll manager.
At the hospital, Calvin told investigators someone ordered him to destroy archived employee complaints.
'Who?'
He stared at me.
'I got the order through Patricia Lowe.'
'From Patricia?'
'No. Through her.'
He swallowed.
'The instruction came from the executive floor.'
I asked for a name.
Calvin shook his head.
'They never use names in the messages.'
Then he gave us his phone.
A secure chat showed one line:
CLEAR WAREHOUSE 6 BEFORE BLACKWELL SEES THE ORIGINALS.
The sender account was labeled N.S.
Natalie Sloan.
Grace warned me it could be spoofed.
Natalie called it a frame-up.
Patricia Lowe disappeared before we could question her.
Her company car was found at O'Hare.
No boarding pass.
No passport use.
Then June remembered something.
'Patricia always talked about her mother in Rockford.'
Investigators found Patricia there that evening.
She surrendered before anyone knocked twice.
Her first words were not about a lawyer.
They were about Owen.
'He'll kill me if I talk.'
I stared at her.
'Has he threatened you?'
May you like
Patricia started crying.
'You still think Owen is the one at the top.'
