Chapter 4

I looked at Marisol.

“What do you mean, King was there when it happened?”

She didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, she turned the photograph away from me.

“I don’t mean this meeting by the river. I mean the original inspection at Hawthorne House, seven years ago.”

I felt my stomach drop.

“How do you know?”

“His name appears on the project records. His company financed the renovation. But the documents don’t establish what he knew about the fire exits.”

Nolan stood beside the window.

“King didn’t cause that fire.”

Marisol looked at him.

“I didn’t say he did.”

“You’re making him sound guilty.”

“I’m trying to establish what happened.”

I rubbed my temples.

“Can we please remember he’s tied to a chair somewhere?”

Marisol’s expression softened.

“We haven’t forgotten.”

She turned toward Nolan.

“You were taken to the location where he was photographed?”

“Yes.”

“Can you identify it?”

“Not exactly.”

“Think.”

Nolan studied the picture.

I’d been staring at King’s face so long that I hadn’t paid much attention to the room around him.

There was a dirty window.

An old radiator.

A section of green-painted steel behind the chair.

And something white on the wall.

I enlarged the original message.

The photograph was compressed, and every time I zoomed too far, the details became muddy.

“It’s no use,” I whispered.

June came closer.

“Stop enlarging it.”

I looked at her.

“What?”

“Look at the whole image. You’re searching for details the camera may not have recorded.”

She pointed to the window.

“What’s unusual about that?”

I studied the glass.

There was a narrow vertical strip of clear material dividing two cloudy sections.

“It looks repaired.”

“Or replaced.”

Nolan leaned forward.

Then his expression changed.

“Wait.”

He pointed to the green-painted beam.

“I know that room.”

Marisol straightened.

“Where?”

“The old Canal Street printworks.”

My heart began pounding.

“King owns it?”

“Not anymore. He sold his interest in the company that held it. Voss kept the property.”

Marisol reached for her phone.

Nolan continued.

“There used to be a printing press in that room. When they removed it, they left the steel supports. The radiator’s beneath the same window.”

“Are you certain?”

“Certain enough to tell you where to look.”

Marisol stepped aside and contacted the investigators handling King’s disappearance.

I couldn’t hear everything she said.

But I heard her give the address.

Then she asked for immediate police assistance.

I looked toward Nolan.

“How long has King been there?”

“Since this afternoon.”

“And you left him?”

The question came out harsher than I’d intended.

Nolan accepted it.

“I was ordered to bring Voss what he wanted.”

“You could have gone straight to the police.”

“I should have.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He looked at me.

“Because men like me spend too long believing we can fix things inside our own world.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

Marisol returned.

“Officers are checking the location. We need to stay here until they confirm what’s happening.”

“I’m going,” I said.

“No.”

“King could die while we’re sitting here.”

“And you could walk directly into the same trap. Voss specifically demanded that you come alone.”

I hated that she was right.

Nolan stepped closer.

“Harper, if King knew you were walking into that building, he’d be furious with me.”

I turned toward him.

“Don’t use King to make decisions for me.”

He stopped.

For a moment, I thought he might argue.

Instead, he nodded.

“You’re right.”

June quietly placed a cup of coffee beside me.

I didn’t drink it.

We waited.

Twenty minutes passed.

Then thirty.

I watched the clock.

I thought about King asking whether I’d eaten breakfast.

King laughing when I admitted I still couldn’t pronounce certain Chicago street names.

King telling me that I didn’t have to prove I was strong by refusing help.

It seemed impossible that a man who occupied so much space in every room could disappear so completely.

Finally, Marisol received an update.

She listened.

Her expression changed.

“Is he conscious?”

I stood so quickly my chair scraped the floor.

Marisol held up a hand.

“Understood. Thank you.”

She ended the call.

“They found him.”

My knees nearly gave way.

“Alive?”

“Yes.”

I pressed a hand over my mouth.

Marisol continued.

“He’s injured, but conscious. Two men were detained at the property. Voss wasn’t there.”

I sat down.

For a moment, I couldn’t speak.

Then I started crying.

Not delicate tears.

Not the kind you see in movies.

I cried so hard I couldn’t get enough air.

June put her arm around me.

“It’s all right, sweetheart.”

But it wasn’t all right.

Not yet.

King was alive.

And I had never been more frightened of what might happen next.

Later that night, Marisol arranged for me to see him at the hospital.

Nolan stayed outside the room.

He didn’t ask to come in.

When I entered, King was sitting upright in bed.

There was a bruise along his jaw and a bandage near his forehead.

His left hand was swollen.

But he was alive.

He looked at me.

“Harper.”

I crossed the room.

For a moment, I wanted to hit him.

Instead, I wrapped my arms around him.

He held me carefully.

“Easy,” he murmured. “I’m a little sore.”

I pulled back.

“You absolute idiot.”

He gave a tired smile.

“That’s fair.”

“Do you know what I went through?”

His smile disappeared.

“Yes.”

“No, you don’t.”

I took out my phone and showed him the photograph.

His expression darkened.

“They sent that to you?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

I sat beside him.

“King, I know about Hawthorne House.”

He went still.

I continued.

“I know about Voss. Peter Grady. Mara Ellis. And the people who died.”

King looked toward the window.

“Harper—”

“Were you involved?”

He closed his eyes.

Then he looked at me.

There was no practiced confidence in his expression now.

Only exhaustion.

And something worse.

Shame.

“Yes,” he said. “I signed the order that allowed those doors to be locked.”

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