Chapter 4 - The Second Key
The heavy brass key sat in Maya's palm like a piece of dead weight. It didn't look like a modern house key; it had long, intricate teeth and a heavy oval head stamped with a faded set of initials: H.M.E. Co.
Officer Vance stared at it, his hand instinctively resting near his empty holster. "Where did you get that key, Maya?"
"In the bottom of the wheelbarrow," she said simply. "Underneath the straw where the bottles were."
Sarah knelt back down, her expression a mix of maternal instinct and rising panic. "Maya, honey, listen to me very carefully. You told us your mommy was sleeping at home for three days. But Officer Vance went to the house, and nobody has lived there in a long time. Where were you and the babies before you came to this road?"
Maya’s gaze flicked from Sarah to Vance, then back to the brass key in her hand. For the first time, her composure cracked just a fraction. Her lower lip trembled, but she pressed it hard against her teeth to stop it.
"We were in the basement," she whispered.
"The basement of the empty house?" Vance asked, stepping closer.
"No. The house with the green door and the big metal stairs that go clack-clack-clack when people walk on them." Maya clutched the brass key tight against her chest. "Mommy told me never to go up those stairs unless the light turned red. But the light turned red three days ago, and it stayed red. And then Mommy sat down on the floor, and she stopped talking, and her eyes wouldn't open even when I shook her real hard."
Dr. Hayes stepped forward, her clipboard clutched like a shield. "Officer, if they were in a commercial basement or an industrial facility with metal stairs... that matches the description of the warehouse district down by the river. The old textile mill was converted into private storage units years ago, but half of them were abandoned after the zoning violations."
Vance pulled his radio from his shoulder strap with a sharp jerk. "Dispatch, this is Vance. I need an immediate status check on the old textile mill property on River Street. Specifically the sub-basement access codes and recent utility draws."
He paused, listening to the crackle of static through the receiver. A dispatcher's voice rattled back, high-pitched and rushed: ...negative on current occupancy, Vance, but municipal records show a commercial lease renewed three months ago under a shell corporation...
"What corporation?" Vance demanded into the mic.
...St. Jude Medical Logistics subsidiary. Wait, cancel that—the file just flagged restricted access. Federal jurisdiction, Vance. You need to step back.
Vance froze. He slowly lowered the radio, his eyes locked on the little girl standing by the desk.
Maya wasn't watching him anymore. She was staring past the glass doors of the emergency room toward the dark asphalt of the parking lot, where a sleek, black sedan with tinted windows had just pulled up and cut its headlights.
May you like
"They found the red light," Maya whispered, her fingers curling tighter around the brass key.
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