"You're not going at all."
He opened a drawer and took out a blank form.
"Give me the location. I'll arrange for an officer to inspect the property before anyone goes near it."
"Can you bring Denise in for questioning?"
"We can speak with her, but we need something more than a photograph and a suspicion."
I looked at him.
"What if she knows where my father is?"
Bennett's expression softened slightly.
"Then we need to find out whether she's telling the truth."
He asked for the address of the pumping station and wrote it down.
"Don't contact her again. If she comes to your house, call us."
I nodded.
But as I walked out of the station, I knew I wasn't finished with Denise.
Not yet.
The old pumping station stood beyond the eastern edge of Briar Glen, behind a stretch of overgrown land that had once belonged to a manufacturing company.
The main building had been demolished years earlier. Only a concrete foundation and two sections of brick wall remained. Weeds grew through cracks in the pavement, and a rusted fence surrounded the property.
A narrow service road ran alongside the ruins.
According to the old map, the underground access was somewhere near the eastern wall.
I returned home and studied the drawing again.
There was a small symbol beside the drainage channel. It looked like a square with a diagonal line through it.
My father had written a note beside the symbol.
Emergency access — maintenance key.
I took the brass key Officer Bennett had collected out of my mind. It was now in police custody, so I couldn't test it. But I remembered its shape: long, narrow, with a rectangular head and two uneven cuts.
The symbol on the map was connected to a small handwritten number.
17.
I checked the map's lower corner.
There was a legend describing several types of access points. Number seventeen was listed as a service hatch, originally installed to allow workers to inspect the drainage tunnel without entering the main chamber.
I called the storage facility and asked to speak to the old manager.
The receptionist transferred me.
He answered after several rings.
"Who is this?"
"It's Robert Hale's son. We spoke yesterday."
There was a pause.
"Yes. I remember."
"I need to ask you about the map you showed me."
"What about it?"
"Did my father ever mention a maintenance key?"
The old man was quiet.
Then he said, "He left one with me."
I sat forward.
"You have it?"
"Not anymore."
"What happened to it?"
"Thomas Vale collected it."
"When?"
"After your father disappeared."
"Do you know why?"
"He said it belonged to his daughter."
I looked at the photograph.
Denise.
"Did he say anything else?"
"Only that the key should never be used unless the county was present."
"Did you give it to him?"
"No. I gave it to Denise."
My stomach tightened.
"Why?"
"Thomas was dead by then. Denise came with a letter from him. It said she was authorized to collect anything he'd left in storage."
"Do you still have the letter?"
"No."
"Are you certain?"
"I remember reading it. I remember her signature. That's all."
I thanked him and ended the call.
Denise had the key.
And she had invited me to the pumping station.
I called Bennett and told him what I'd learned.
He didn't sound pleased.
"That changes things," he said. "Do not go there."
"I won't."
"Good. I'll send someone to speak with her."
But before he could say anything else, I heard a noise outside.
A car engine.
I looked through the window.
A dark sedan was parked across the street.
The same one Martin had seen at the diner.
Its windows were tinted.
I watched it for several seconds.
Then the driver lifted a hand and held something against the glass.
A photograph.
I couldn't make out the details, but I recognized the image.
It was my father's face.
The sedan pulled away before I could reach the front door.
"Officer Bennett?"
"Yes?"
"There's a car outside my house. I think it's the same one from the diner."
"Did you get the license plate?"
"No."
"Stay inside. I'll send a patrol unit."
I watched the car disappear around the corner.
For the rest of the afternoon, I kept the curtains closed.
At 8:40 that evening, my doorbell rang.
I looked through the peephole.
It was Denise.
I didn't open the door.
"What do you want?" I called.