Chapter 8: The Secret He Kept

I stared at Callan's access record until the words blurred.

He had been inside Lab 02 before the fire.

Not after.

Before.

I wanted to believe there was another explanation.

Maybe he'd forgotten to mention it.

Maybe he'd gone there for something unrelated.

Maybe the access system had malfunctioned.

But deep down, I knew better.

For years, I'd been the person who noticed everything everyone else ignored.

Callan might have been the genius, but I knew his habits.

He never entered a restricted laboratory without logging the reason.

He never left equipment unsecured.

And he never lied about research.

At least, that's what I'd believed.

I printed the access record and locked it inside my desk.

I wasn't going to confront him yet.

Not until I knew the whole story.

That evening, my supervisor called me into his office.

Sage, we need to talk about the partnership.

I sat down.

Is something wrong?

The institute wants to remove Callan from the project.

I wasn't surprised.

Why?

There are concerns about his involvement in the financial irregularities.

My supervisor leaned back.

They also want you to take over the administrative side of the project.

Me?

You know the project better than anyone.

I almost laughed.

Years ago, being told I knew the project better than Callan would have meant everything to me.

Now it barely moved me.

I'll do it.

Good.

He slid another folder toward me.

There's one more thing.

I opened it.

Inside was a list of missing research equipment.

Several items had disappeared from the restricted lab before the fire.

Their serial numbers were connected to the same company that had received the suspicious transfers.

My heart dropped.

This is more serious than I thought.

Much more serious.

We believe someone may have been selling institute equipment through a private supplier.

Do you think Callan was involved?

We don't know yet.

But his access credentials appear repeatedly in the records.

I closed the folder.

Then we need evidence.

That night, I returned to my apartment and found an envelope pushed beneath my door.

No name.

No return address.

Inside was a single flash drive.

I connected it to my laptop.

There were dozens of files.

Research budgets.

Purchase orders.

Security logs.

And one video.

I opened it.

The footage showed the institute corridor outside Lab 02 on the night of the fire.

The timestamp was clear.

Callan appeared on screen.

He entered the lab carrying a small black case.

I stopped breathing.

The same type of case Elara had been seen carrying earlier.

A few minutes later, Callan came back out.

He looked around the corridor before walking away.

Then Elara appeared.

She entered the lab.

Ten minutes later, she ran out screaming.

The fire alarm went off seconds afterward.

I replayed the footage.

Again.

And again.

Callan had lied.

But why?

My phone rang.

Unknown number.

I answered cautiously.

Hello?

A man's voice came through.

If you want to know what really happened that night, don't trust Callan.

Who are you?

Someone who tried to warn him.

What do you mean?

Callan wasn't the one who started the fire.

My heart stopped.

Then who was?

The caller was silent for several seconds.

Elara.

The line went dead.

I sat frozen.

If Elara had started the fire, why had Callan entered the lab first?

And why had he carried the case?

I looked back at the video.

Something caught my eye.

At the very end of the footage, after Elara ran from the lab, another figure appeared in the corridor.

Someone wearing a dark hood.

They walked into Lab 02.

Less than a minute later, the entire building lost power.

Then the fire began.

Whoever that person was, they had never appeared in the original investigation.

I zoomed in on the screen.

The figure turned slightly toward the camera.

For one second, the face became visible.

I recognized him.

My breath caught.

It was Daniel Hart.

My new supervisor.