Chapter Seven: What the Papers Could Not Prove

The men at the loading bay moved faster when they saw Vivian.
One pushed a handcart into the building while the other lowered the metal shutter.
Vivian ran toward them and shouted for them to stop.
Owen grabbed my sleeve.
“We need to stay out of this.”
But Vivian had already reached the shutter.
She pounded on it with both fists.
A voice from inside told her to leave.
Then a heavy object struck the other side of the door.
Vivian stepped backward so quickly that she nearly fell.

I called the police and reported a confrontation at the abandoned arena.
While we waited, Vivian walked toward me with trembling hands.
“I never wanted that file destroyed,” she said.
“You painted my door and threatened me.”
“I wanted it away from the people who sent it.”
I asked what she meant.
She glanced at Owen, who stared at the ground.
“The file was delivered to you on purpose,” she said.
“Someone wants you to take the blame for what happens next.”

I did not believe her simply because she sounded frightened.
I had seen her destroy my property and heard her threats.
But the box had carried my name, and its delivery had brought several people out of hiding.
I asked who had arranged it.
Vivian said the answer was inside the arena.
Then the loading bay shutter rose six inches.
A small object slid across the concrete and stopped near our feet.
It was a child’s red skating glove, brittle with age.
A man’s voice came through the gap.
“Ask her how many children she counted.”
The shutter slammed shut.

Chapter Eight: The Count

Vivian stood absolutely still.
Owen crouched beside the glove without touching it.
The approaching siren sounded faint beyond the warehouses.
I asked Vivian what the voice meant.
She looked toward the arena’s dark windows.
“The official report said six children were injured,” she answered.
“How many were there?”
“Seven.”
The word landed between us like another stone.
I thought of the newspaper clipping and its careful list of injuries.
I asked whether the seventh child had died.
Vivian shook her head.
“No,” she said.
“She walked out of the building before the ambulances arrived.”
“Then why wasn’t she counted?”
Vivian’s eyes filled with tears, but she did not look away.
“Because she wasn’t supposed to be inside that building at all.”