Cogent

TWENTY-SEVEN

The school was closed. It was the evening and most people had completed their work and gone home by then. It would be the perfect time to talk to Keith. Carter pulled into the empty lot and parked near the back entrance. There was a large metal door back there that led to the basement. "If Keith's here, he's down there." Carter pointed as he got out. Mikael followed, her face tight with uncertainty.

"Are you sure?"

Carter glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. "Still doubting me?" he asked casually as they walked toward the basement door. He rolled his eyes when she didn't answer. "Yes, I'm sure. I saw him with his phone out, taking pictures of everyone. It didn't seem weird at the time. People take pictures. It's not unusual. But the position is right. The chapel behind you in the photograph puts you to my left. He was right across from me. The angle, the distance, everything fits."

"Okay, okay." Mikael put up her hands. "So it's him. Where is he?"

They reached the door together. Carter dug into his pockets. "I had a key to this," he mumbled. "Damnit!" he snapped, unable to find the bundle of maintenance keys he used to always carry around. Taking so much time away from work had made him forgetful and sloppy. "Let me try calling him again." He pulled out his phone and started searching his contacts. Mikael reached out and touched his arm.

"What's that?" she asked, peering at the closed door.

Carter paused. "What? I don't hear anything."

"It sounds like someone crying," Mikael inched closer. "A woman. She sounds hurt."

Carter leaned toward the door and pressed his ear to the metal. He could hear it now, the quiet sobbing from somewhere inside the basement. He glanced at Mikael and then shoved at the door, hoping to open it by force. It didn't budge.

"Carter," Mikael shook her head. "That's not—"

He slammed against the door again, wincing as he backed up to go at it a third time.

"Carter!" Mikael put out her hand to stop him. "Let's just call the police," she suggested.

"The police? What, so Setter can come over here arrest Keith before we can ask him about the photograph? I don't think so."

"Well, you're not going to break this door down," Mikael told him.

"I can try," Carter retorted, ramming it again. This time he felt a pop in his shoulder on impact. His knees buckled and he gasped in pain.

"This isn't working," Mikael said, helping him up. Her hand rested on the door handle, pressing down on it to support them.

"Ouch," Carter complained, holding his shoulder. "Get back Mikael. I'm going to try again," he said with pure determination. Gritting his teeth, he pulled her out of the way.

"No, Carter!" she resisted, still pressing the handle, but he was stronger. She stumbled forward as he guided her out of the way.

The door opened.

Mikael and Carter both paused. They looked at her firm grip on the handle, eyes widening in surprise. "It's a...pull door. Not a push..." she said softly in wonder.

"Of course it is," Carter muttered, rubbing his aching shoulder.

"We probably should've checked..."

"The woman," he reminded her, charging inside without another word. Mikael followed him in, heels clicking against the stairs. They stopped at the next door to look at each other warily before Carter tried the handle. It too was unlocked. He pulled it open and went inside. The basement maintenance room was dimly lit and full of old water heaters and A/C units. A workbench sat on one side of the space, a couch on the other.