Chapter 7
“Basement,” I repeated.
The word sat in the hospital conference room like a key that might fit any number of doors.
Daniel pulled the saved clinic listing back onto his tablet. The address was on the east side of Tampa, attached to an outpatient building that had stopped taking appointments years ago. The directory entry gave no basement layout, no staff names, and no explanation for why Allison had chosen that word.
Elliot studied the address.
“I don’t recognize it,” he said. “I only remember the pavement. And a woman telling me not to use my old name.”
“That memory might help us ask better questions,” I said. “It doesn’t tell us where Allison is.”
The officer who had been speaking with the hospital remained near the conference-room door, phone in hand. He had agreed to notify the local unit and request a welfare check. He had not promised to send anyone through a locked door on our say-so.
A few minutes later, he lowered his phone.
“The clinic’s property manager is meeting a patrol unit there. She’s authorized them to enter the building. If Ms. Reed is inside, the officers will check on her first.”
“Can we come?” I asked.
“You can wait outside. If Ms. Reed wants to see you, the officers can bring you in. Don’t turn a welfare check into a confrontation.”
“I understand.”
I wanted to say that I had spent the night being told to wait while people vanished. Instead, I nodded. Allison had spent the night being treated as an obstacle. I wasn’t going to make her safety depend on my impatience.
Daniel drove. Elliot sat in the back, watching the city pass in the window’s reflection. None of us spoke much. At each red light, I checked my phone for a call from the hospital or the police. Nothing came.
The clinic stood behind a row of dark storefronts and a chain-link fence. Its white sign had faded until only ST. ANNE’S remained clear. A patrol car waited by the curb. Beside it stood a woman in a gray coat, holding a ring of keys.
The officer who had met us at the hospital stepped out of his own vehicle and spoke briefly with the patrol officers. The property manager confirmed her authorization, then unlocked the gate.
“We’ll go in together,” the officer told me. “Stay where we can see you, and let us make contact.”
The service entrance was set beneath a concrete overhang. Rust had gathered around its frame, but the lock turned smoothly under the property manager’s key. The door opened onto a narrow corridor with a mop sink, a cart of folded linens, and a smell of dust and damp plaster.
A fluorescent light buzzed overhead.
“Ms. Reed?” one officer called. “Tampa Police. We’re here to check that you’re safe.”
No answer.
The patrol officers moved carefully down the hall. The property manager stayed near the door. Daniel kept beside me, while Elliot hung back, scanning the blank walls as if something in them might recognize him.
The corridor ended at a stairwell. A hand-lettered sign pointed down: BASEMENT—AUTHORIZED STAFF ONLY.
The officers looked to the property manager. She gave a small, uneasy nod.
“That level connects to the old records rooms,” she said. “It’s supposed to be sealed off.”
“Supposed to be?” Daniel asked.
“I haven’t been down there in months.”
The officer went first. We followed only after he told us to. The stairwell smelled of wet cement. At the bottom, a single emergency light cast a red glow over a metal door. A second door stood open to the left, leading into a storage room stacked with empty boxes.
“Ms. Reed?” the officer called again.
A soft scrape came from beyond the open doorway.
The officers shifted toward it. Daniel’s hand tightened around his phone, but he didn’t reach for anything else.
“Don’t come closer,” a man’s voice said. “She’s frightened.”
“Harold?” I asked.
There was a pause.
“Yes.”
The officers entered first. One called out that the room was clear, then motioned us forward.
Allison sat on a folding chair behind a stack of boxes, a blanket around her shoulders. Her face was pale, and a strip of medical tape still clung to the back of one hand. But she was awake and tracking every person who entered.
Harold Kent stood several feet away, both hands visible. He looked exhausted, with his shirt collar rumpled and dark shadows beneath his eyes.
“Mr. Ricci,” Allison said.
I stopped well short of her chair.
“Are you hurt?”
“No. I’m just tired.”
“Did Harold bring you here against your will?”
Harold flinched. Allison looked from him to me.
“No,” she said. “I agreed to come. Someone kept standing outside my hospital room. Harold said he could get me somewhere they wouldn’t find me right away.”
The officer moved closer, speaking gently.
“Ms. Reed, you don’t have to stay here. We can take you back to the hospital or somewhere else you feel safe.”
“I don’t want to go back to that room.”
“Then we’ll find another option,” he said. “You’re in charge of that choice.”
Allison pressed the blanket closer around her shoulders. Her hands trembled, though her voice held steady.
“Is Lucy okay?”
“She’s safe with your neighbor,” I said. “Daniel got confirmation. No one has gone near her.”
Allison closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them, some of the strain had eased from her face.
“Thank you.”
“I’m sorry you had to send a word and hope we understood.”
“I didn’t know what else to say.”
Harold shifted his weight.
“I can explain how she got here,” he said. “But I want it on the record that I didn’t drug anyone.”
The officer glanced at him.
“Start with what you did do.”
Harold looked at me, then at Allison.
“Michael asked me to give him access to the security system at the mansion. He said he needed a clean copy of the guest recordings. When I refused, he told me he knew where my daughter worked and what time she got off. He said one missed call would be enough to make me understand.”
His voice dropped.
“I deleted six minutes. I should have reported him. I didn’t. I thought if I did exactly what he asked, he’d leave my family alone.”
“Did you alter Allison’s water?” I asked.
“No.”
“Did you arrange for the second server to drink from the same service?”
“No. I didn’t know anyone was going to be poisoned.”
The word seemed to chill the room. The officer’s expression tightened.
“We don’t have a lab result yet,” he said. “Don’t state that as established fact.”
Harold nodded quickly.
“I’m telling you what I knew. I saw what happened at the party afterward. I thought they were trying to make everyone look the other way. Then Michael contacted me again and asked whether Allison had said anything.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?” Daniel asked.
“Because I was scared. Then I saw someone watching the hospital corridor. I recognized the way he kept checking the doors. I couldn’t prove he was there for her, but I knew I’d helped create the blind spot that made it possible.”
He glanced at Allison.
“She said she’d leave with me if I got her somewhere quiet. So I used the old clinic key. I thought the basement was still empty.”
“You used the hospital authorization?” I asked.
Harold’s face changed.
“I gave someone my name and said I was there to pick her up. I didn’t sign anything, and I didn’t have permission to remove her. But she chose to come. I know how it looked in the records.”
That matched what the hospital had told us: an authorization under Harold’s name, collected by someone using an outside credential. His account was not proof that every part of it was true. It was a start.
The officer took out a notebook.
“We’ll document all of that. We’ll also confirm what happened with the hospital and get Ms. Reed somewhere safe. Mr. Kent, you’ll need to come with us and give a formal statement.”
Harold nodded. He did not look relieved.
“I’ll tell them everything.”
Daniel turned toward the metal door at the end of the hall.
“What’s behind that?”
“The records archive,” Harold said. “The clinic kept old files down there before it closed. They sealed it when the medical group moved out.”
The property manager frowned.
“The archive is supposed to be locked from both sides.”
Harold took a step toward it, then stopped.
“When I came in, I noticed fresh marks around the lock. The seal had been disturbed.”
The officer raised a hand, holding everyone back.
“Did you open it?”
“No.”
“Did you see anyone else down here?”
“No. I heard a door shut somewhere before I found Allison.”
The corridor seemed to narrow around us. The officer asked the property manager to confirm whether anyone else had keys. She was still answering when a faint beep sounded from behind the metal door.
Everyone went quiet.
A second beep followed. Then a sharp electronic chime began pulsing from inside the sealed archive.
May you like
The officer turned toward the door.
A fresh alarm was sounding from inside.
