“Yes; snipped it too.”
“Good.” West walks toward the door. “The police were in front of the building when I came down, so I’m sure Josh is leading them to the secret entrance. There’s a crawl space past Jefferson that leads to the parking garage. Follow me.”
C h a p t e r 3 2
“AND THIS, THIS right here is the entrance to the secret room.” Josh pounds on the wall. “See this seam right over here? The wall goes into it. A door appears over there, then a stairwell appears. I locked the shooter inside.”
“Sir, hold on a second.” The policewoman shifts her torso and readjusts her bodycam. “Do you work here?”
“Of course I work here.” He pulls out a business card from his wallet, shows it to the policewoman. “Well not here, it’s still under construction, but yes, I work for this company.”
The policewoman looks at the business card, raises an eyebrow. “You say there’s a man trapped behind this wall; a man you say killed another man named Walter Gordon?”
“Yes! Billy Donovan. He killed Walter Gordon.”
“You said you scraped this Billy Donovan’s face with some sort of sharp instrument?”
“Yes.” Josh looks at his hands. “See, here’s a little blood here on my middle finger, you need to get it, match it. It’s Billy’s.”
“May I see the instrument please?”
Josh swallows. He knows if he shows them the SSD drive with Billy’s blood on it, they’ll have to take it as evidence.
“It was … something I grabbed on the stairs. It was dark, I couldn’t see what it was. I think it’s still in there.” He grabs the thermostat and pushes it upward. “Watch this.”
The thermostat won’t budge. He tries to push it downward. Nothing happens.
“Sir, that’s a thermostat,” the police officer says. Her partner is standing silently behind her.
“It’s fake.” Josh continues to manipulate it. “It’s really an oval keypad that matches a key. They sync up, these little lights swirl around, and the wall opens.”
“Well, that sounds cool,” the policewoman’s partner says. “Where’s the key?”
“I’m sorry?”
“If the only way to enter this secret room is with a flashing oval key, then where is it?” asks the policewoman.
Josh swallows again. “I must still be in the se—”
“The secret room,” she says. “Uh-huh.”
The officers exchange an awkward glance and a shrug.
Josh continues to manhandle the thermostat but can’t get it open.
The policewoman reaches for it, turns it on.
A whirring sound echoes through the halls. A vent above them blows air onto Josh’s wavy blonde hair.
The female police officer looks at her partner, who raises both eyebrows.
“They changed it.” Josh studies the thermostat, pulls on it. He hits it with his palm. “They fucking changed it.”
“Sir, if you can just calm down a second.”
“You don’t believe me.” Josh sidesteps to where the wall opens. “Look! There! Powder. Dust. The last bullet hit just above the stairs, went into the ceiling.”
“That’s construction for you.”
Both officers and Josh jump at the new voice from down the hall. They turn to see James West walking toward them.
“What’s going on here?” West asks.
Josh steps forward. “You know exactly what’s going on here.”
“This young man called dispatch about a possible shooting in this building.” The police officer steps forward. “That’s a very serious charge, we came to check out the disturbance.”
“Yeah, about twenty minutes later,” Josh adds.
“Mr. Harrison, what is meaning of all of this? Who shot at you?” West’s eyebrows form a perfect arch.
“Billy Donovan.”
“Billy Donovan? I don’t know that name.”
“That’s a lie,” Josh says.
The second offer points at the dust on the floor. “He claims Billy Donovan shot at him three times in a secret room beyond this wall.”
West chuckles, then places his hand on the wall. “A secret room?”
“You’re the one who told me to meet you there.” Josh pulls a note from his pocket.
West reads it.
Meet West below. Now. Use the key.
Reagan.
“May I see the note, sir?” The police officer holds out her hand.
“This is why I came down here, Mr. Harrison, to find you. We need to go through the specifics of our upcoming event.” West turns from Josh to the police officer. “Josh Harrison is our executive creative director here at Élan International. His storage room is right down this hall. Mr. Harrison been working long hours, diligently planning and preparing our grand opening. As one might suspect, the pressure has been affecting his demeanor. He’s been erratic and panicky as of late. I’ve shared with him the need to take better care of himself.”
“You’ve said no such thing.” Josh’s pitch is lower, more forceful than before.
“Maybe I should have.”
“Look, fellas, I see there’s a camera up here.” The officer points in the upper corner of the ceiling. “If you could just show us the recordings from that camera, we can all just breathe.”
Josh smiles.
“Oh, this?” West reaches up, takes the camera off its stand. The short wire comes out of the wall immediately. “Fake. We set it up during construction when the doors were still just plywood coverings. I can throw it away now.”
West tosses the camera in a nearby wastebasket.
Josh places both hands on his hips. “You are something else.”
“Sir, what’s behind this wall?” The officer knocks on it, looks down the hallway, which leads to an intersection of another hallway. “I don’t see an access room.”
“Honestly I have no idea,” West says. “Maybe some storage off the parking garage? I could walk with you to the other side. Or I could messenger over the blueprints.”
“Actually I can messenger over mine,” Josh says, looks at West. “Walter had a copy. Walter Gordon, remember him?”
“Walter’s plans? I’m afraid they’re outdated. They’ve changed many times since then.”
“I’ll need them both,” the officer says.
“Of course,” West replies. “I’m sure you can sort by the dates.”
“Who’s Reagan?” Josh asks.
“Pardon me?”
“Reagan. From the note. There’s no one named Reagan who works for you.”
“She’s a temporary assistant. We’ve talked about this. Kimberly left our organization a few months ago, remember, Josh?” West looks at
