Ethan looked at the keypad.
A small piece of black tape covered the brand label.
He peeled it back.
Not the original system.
Someone had replaced the lock.
Aaron swore under his breath.
Lupita stepped closer.
“Try 0317.”
Ethan looked at her.
“Why?”
“That’s Robert’s birthday. He used it for everything because he thought nobody paid attention to maintenance forms.”
Aaron entered it.
The lock clicked green.
Lupita did not smile.
She just opened the door.
Inside, the archive smelled like dust, cardboard, and old secrets.
Rows of banker boxes lined metal shelves.
Most were labeled by year.
Payroll.
Vendor contracts.
Guest claims.
Property tax.
Insurance.
Employee relations.
Aaron swept the room.
Clear.
Ethan entered last.
For a moment, he could almost see Sarah standing there. Thin. Determined. One hand against a shelf for balance. Searching while her body betrayed her.
His chest tightened.
Naomi turned on her phone flashlight.
