Chapter 11 - The Archived File
The basement of the state county archives was silent, save for the rhythmic clicking of an old microfiche machine and the smell of aging paper and mildew. Detective Miller stood over the glowing glass screen, manually scrolling through decades-old police reports, autopsy summaries, and coroner's inquests from October twenty years prior.
Maya and Drew sat on hard metal folding chairs behind him, their eyes burning from exhaustion and hours of intense reading.
"Here it is," Detective Miller muttered, stopping the scrolling mechanism on a grainy black-and-white scan of an official death certificate. He tapped the glass with his pen. "The drowning report of Arthur Carson. Date of recovery: October twenty-second."
Maya leaned forward, squinting at the fine print. "Look at the dental records comparison notes at the bottom."
Detective Miller adjusted the focus knob until the fuzzy text cleared up. "Partial match only. Dental work consistent with age and gender, but missing full odontological charts due to severe trauma."
Drew placed his head in his hands, running his fingers through his hair. "Sarah wasn't lying. If the body was only a partial match..."
"It means the coroner's office rushed the identification under pressure from local authorities," Detective Miller finished the sentence grimly. "And who was the primary next-of-kin who signed off on the expedited cremation waiver?"
Maya stared at the document, a cold dread washing over her. "Helen Carson."
Detective Miller stood up, pulling a folded map of the state from his jacket pocket and spreading it across the stainless-steel examination table. He pulled a red dry-erase marker from his shirt pocket and drew a bold circle around an isolated location in the northern foothills.
"If Helen kept your father alive and institutionalized, she couldn't do it in a standard public hospital," the detective said, tracing a line from the archives building to the marked circle. "It would require a private, unregulated care facility with zero public oversight. A place where identities can be easily erased."
Drew looked up, his eyes bloodshot and desperate. "St. Jude’s Sanitarium. It closed down five years ago after a state investigation into patient neglect."
Detective Miller capped his marker with a sharp click. "Closed down officially, yes. But the property was never sold. It’s still registered under a holding company linked directly to the same corporate shell Sarah used to buy her estate."
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Maya stood up, her jaw set with unwavering determination. "Then that’s where we’re going. We’re going to find out if our father is really still alive."
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