"Arthur Harrow?"
Bennett nodded.
"Arthur Harrow was the founder of Harrow Residential Group. He died twelve years ago. The company was dissolved after a series of financial disputes."
"Does that mean there's nobody left responsible?"
"Not necessarily. The company sold several assets before it closed. Some of the infrastructure agreements may have been transferred."
"To whom?"
"We're checking."
I thought about Martin's warning.
The people who paid to make the problem disappear.
"Could someone still be interested in the documents?"
"Certainly."
"Could they be responsible for my father's death?"
Bennett didn't answer immediately.
"I can't establish that from a note and an old notebook."
"I know."
"But I'll look into the accident report if you give me the details."
I told him the date and location.
He wrote them down.
"One more thing," I said. "My neighbor Denise Vale has been trying to prevent me from opening the chamber. She requested the original survey three months ago."
Bennett's expression tightened.
"She did?"
"Yes. The records director confirmed it."
"Did he say why?"
"She claimed it was a family matter."
He looked toward the neighboring house.
"Don't confront her."
"I wasn't planning to."
"Good. Let us handle the investigation."
He closed his notebook.
As he walked toward the gate, he stopped and looked back.
"Mr. Hale?"
"Yes?"
"Do you know what your father was doing on the night he died?"
I frowned.
"He was coming home from a meeting."
"What kind of meeting?"
"I don't know."
"Was he working for Harrow at the time?"
I tried to remember.
"He'd left the company years earlier, I think. But he still consulted for different developers."
Bennett nodded slowly.
"Find out if you can."
Then he left.
I drove to the storage facility Martin had given me.
It was a sprawling complex of metal buildings surrounded by a chain-link fence. A sign above the entrance advertised secure commercial storage, document archiving, and climate-controlled units.
The receptionist looked up when I entered.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm looking for old engineering records from Harrow Residential Group. They may have been transferred here from the county."
She typed something into her computer.
"Do you have a file number?"
"Not exactly. The development was called Briar Glen. The original survey may be in a box labeled 04-118."
She searched again.
"That number doesn't appear in our current catalog."
"Could it be under a different name?"
"Possibly. We have a lot of legacy records."
I showed her the photograph of my father, Thomas Vale, and Arthur Harrow.
She studied it.
"These are the people you're looking for?"
"Yes."
She turned the photograph over.
"Arthur Harrow," she murmured. "I remember that name."
"Did you work here when the records were transferred?"
"No. But my father did. He was the facility manager back then."
"Is he still around?"
She hesitated.
"He's retired. But he still lives nearby."
"Could I speak to him?"
She looked at me for a moment.
"What's your name?"
"Hale. Robert Hale's son."
Something changed in her face.
She picked up the phone and dialed an extension.
"Just a moment."
She spoke quietly to someone I couldn't hear. After a short conversation, she hung up.
"My father says he remembers your family."
I felt my heartbeat quicken.
"Can I meet him?"
"He'll be here in twenty minutes."
I thanked her and sat in the waiting area.
While I waited, I noticed a display case containing old photographs of the storage facility. One showed a group of workers standing beside a loading bay. Another showed several rows of archive boxes being unloaded from a county truck.
A third photograph caught my attention.
It showed the same building, but the date printed beneath it was 1994.
In the foreground stood a younger Martin Cole.
Beside him was Denise Vale.
She was holding a large metal case.
I leaned closer.
The photograph had been taken outside the facility.
Not at Briar Glen.
At this storage building.
I turned toward the receptionist.
"Where did this photograph come from?"
She followed my gaze.
"Those were taken during the original transfer. My father donated them to the facility."
"Do you know what was being transferred?"
"County engineering records, mostly."
"Was the metal case part of the shipment?"
She looked uncertain.
"I don't know."
I stared at the photograph again.
Denise had been there.
And Martin had been there too.
Whatever they had taken from the chamber, they had brought it to this building.