Chapter 4 - The Unsafe Structure
The side door of the warehouse had been forced open, its heavy padlock hanging broken from a twisted latch.
I pulled my flashlight, casting a sharp beam of white light across the water-stained concrete floor. The air inside smelled of damp mold, wet wood, and old machine oil. Dust motes danced in the light as I moved quietly past stacks of rotting wooden pallets.
My fire marshal training took over instantly. I scanned the ceiling—no functional smoke detectors, wiring hanging exposed from rusted junction boxes, and structural support beams showing visible dry rot. If a fire broke out in this building, it would consume the structure in less than eight minutes.
And my fourteen-year-old son was somewhere inside.
I found the concrete stairwell near the rear loading dock. A dim, flickering halogen work light was strung up along the handrail, leading up to the third floor. I climbed the stairs quietly, stepping near the wall where the concrete treads were less likely to creak.
When I reached the third-floor landing, I heard voices echoing down the long, narrow corridor.
"...told you his mother would break," a man's voice said. It wasn't Spencer. It was a rougher, deeper voice—the same raspy voice that had called Colette's phone earlier. "She's terrified of losing her precious country-club reputation. She'll bring the rest of the twenty grand."
"She's out of money, Marcus," another voice replied—Spencer. "Her husband is a public employee. They don't have another twenty grand liquid. We take what she brought tonight and move the kid to the abandoned depot in Commerce City tomorrow."
My blood ran cold.
I edged closer to a partially open wooden door down the hallway. Light leaked through the gap. I peered inside.
The room was a hastily converted office space. Sitting in the middle of the room under a single hanging lightbulb was my son, Kaden.
He was tied to a wooden folding chair, his arms bound behind his back with zip-ties. He wore his grey Ridgemont Academy hoodie, his dark hair messy, his face pale and bruised around his left eye. He looked smaller than I remembered, his head hanging low with exhaustion.
Standing near a folding table covered with laptops and burner phones were Spencer and a burly man in a leather jacket—Marcus.
"Dad?" Kaden suddenly mumbled, his voice hoarse and weak as he shifted in the chair.
"Shut up, kid," Marcus snapped, stepping over and shaking Kaden’s shoulder roughly. "Nobody's coming for you until your old lady pays up."
Seeing my son bound, bruised, and terrified dissolved every ounce of my professional restraint.
I kicked the wooden door off its rusted hinges with a thunderous CRACK.
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The door slammed inward, striking Marcus square in the shoulder and sending him sprawling across the floor. Spencer spun around, his eyes wide with horror as I stepped into the room, my beam of light blinding him.
"County Fire Marshal!" I yelled, my voice booming off the brick walls with absolute authority. "Get on the ground! Now!"