Shift

Chapter 9

Fire hazard?

I read the email a third time.

I rubbed my eyes with both palms. Pinched the bridge of my nose.

What a day.

I’d been director for weeks, but this was a first.

Frankly, I wasn’t sure what to do.

This job is going to kill me.

But I knew I had to investigate. We’d already been robbed. I didn’t need a fire.

Frustrated, I stood and strode from my office. Being Sunday, the rest of the director’s suite was empty. The rooms still made me uncomfortable — I still thought of this area as belonging to my predecessor. Probably always would.

“One thing after another,” I said aloud.

I took the elevator to the ground floor and crossed to the security desk.

Carl was on duty, not Chief Hudson.

Why am I relieved? I hired the guy.

“Any word on my daughter, Carl?”

The portly guard shot to his feet. “No sir, Dr. Howard. Director Howard.”

He snatched off his cap and began spinning it in his hands.

I suppressed a sigh. Carl and I used to swap jokes.

“Relax, Carl. And, please, call me Kit. It’s no big deal, I was just curious. The kids show up without warning, then they drop off the grid.”

This only made Carl fidget more. “Should I look for them, sir? I mean, Director. Er, Kit.”

“Forget I asked.” I waved the guard back to his seat. “If anyone needs me, I’m heading over to Depot A for a sec.”

“Yes, sir, Director Howard.” Carl winced. “Doctor. Kit.”

I slipped through the glass doors, shaking my head. Things would never be the same. The price you pay for being in charge, I guess.

A part of me missed how things used to be.

Sometimes, I felt like fraud. A little boy, sneaking around in Karsten’s impossibly large shoes. I worried the other LIRI veterans thought the same about me.

At times like this, I missed being plain old Dr. Howard, the nerdy marine biologist who obsessed over loggerhead turtles. People liked that guy. They didn’t stammer, or grow quiet when he approached the water cooler.

Those days were gone. But if the cost of saving LIRI was being forced to manage it, I was willing to pay.

Plus, let’s be honest. Being the boss does have its perks.

Once outside, I followed the path to Vehicle Depot A. I tried my key, but a shrill beeping erupted the moment I touched the knob.

Hudson has the system back online. Thanks for the heads-up.

Moving to the keypad, I punched in a seven-digit code and swiped my card. There was a hum, then a flash as the sensor took my photograph. The door swung open.

I entered a narrow corridor. To my left was a door leading to the garage. To my right was a row of employee lockers, a pair of offices, and a storage closet. My objective was straight ahead: a maintenance room housing the sprinkler controls.

I didn’t bother with the lights, and soon regretted it. Halfway down the hallway something snagged my pants.

Rip.

“What the heck?” I retreated a step and fumbled for a switch.

The halogens sputtered to life, revealing a long black cable jutting from one of the lockers. The casing had been cut, exposing the copper wire within.

The cable had snared me.

Dang it. I just bought these Dockers.

Extricating myself, I shoved the cord back inside the locker.

Unsafe. I’d need to have a word with… Glasnapp? Johnson?

Mental note: Find out who runs this department.

I proceeded to the maintenance room and opened a sleek black panel.

At least I know where the sprinkler controls are, right?

A message was blinking in red: Water supply manually disengaged.

I frowned. The shutoff valve was in the main garage.

I closed the panel, retraced my steps, and entered the mechanics’ bay. The water pipes were in the corner, beside several large bins that stored monkey feed.

The problem was immediately apparent — the emergency handle had been turned perpendicular to the pipe. Which meant the valve was closed, shutting off the system’s water supply. A tiny red sensor was flashing like a railroad signal.

Why had the flow been disengaged? When? By whom?

This makes no sense.

Was someone goofing around in there?

My mind leapt to Tory and her friends. I wouldn’t put anything past those four.

Don’t get me wrong, they’re great kids. Bright, energetic, polite. Tory especially — with my daughter, every day was a learning experience. I no longer doubted her IQ was higher than mine, and I hold two PhDs.

But honestly, I couldn’t believe the things they got into.

After a moment’s reflection, I dismissed my suspicion.

Even with security down, they’d have had no way of getting in here.

Baffled, I stretched to my tiptoes, grabbed the handle, and repositioned it parallel to the pipe. The sensor blinked twice, then stopped altogether.

One issue solved.

I’d taken two steps toward the door when I saw it.

Black cable. Hanging from the corner feed bin.

Like that cable in the locker.

Curious, I climbed to the bin’s opening and tugged the handle. And nearly toppled off the steps as the entire door came free in my hand. It dropped to the floor with a reverberating clatter.

Irritated now, I peered inside.

My head nearly exploded.

Stolen lab equipment nearly filled the space.

What are the odds…

Then a second thunderbolt struck home.

I hurried out to the lockers and found the one that attacked me.

My hand froze an inch from the handle. Could I legally open it?

Did I need a warrant? Probable cause? A witness?

Screw it. I’m responsible for this facility.

I engaged the latch, was surprised when the locker opened easily.

Inside were three lengths of cable, a LIRI laptop, and a router.

“You are so busted!” I shouted at no one, angrier than I’d realized.

Slamming the door, I scanned the locker’s face.

Found a name.

Trey Terry.