Vic knocked again, louder this time.“Mr.Crawford, we just have a few questions about your work.We believe you may be able to help us with a case.”
Still nothing.Miles stepped closer to the door and pressed his ear against the wood.There were no sounds from inside.No television, no movement, no signs of life.
“Maybe he's not home,” Vic said plainly.
“His car's here.”
“Could have gone for a walk.Could be sleeping.”
Miles tried the door handle but found it locked.He stepped back and looked at Vic.“Vic… I can’t let this monster walk around free while Elena is lying in a morgue because of him.”
“We don’t know for sure it’s him, Miles.You know as well as I do that we need to do this properly.We can get a warrant, come back with backup—”
Miles drew back his leg and kicked the door hard just beside the handle.The wood splintered around the lock mechanism and the door flew inward with a crash.An explosion of relief and release flooded his system.He was both surprised and appalled at how good a little violence had suddenly made him feel.
“Jesus Christ, Miles!”Vic's hand instinctively moved toward her weapon.“What the hell are you doing?”
“Finding answers.”Miles stepped through the broken doorway into Crawford's house.He became instantly aware that he was not armed, but it didn’t stop him.In that moment of sheer anger and irresponsibility, he felt that he might very well be able to eat any bullets that came his way should someone get the jump on them.
Vic hesitated for a moment, then followed him inside.“This is completely against protocol.If Hayes finds out—”
“Hayes isn't here.”
The interior of Crawford's house was surprisingly normal.Clean hardwood floors, basic furniture from discount stores, a small television on a wooden stand, a large area rug taking up most of the living room floor.Family photos lined the mantel above a brick fireplace.One showed Crawford with what looked like parents and siblings, everyone smiling at an outdoor barbecue.
Miles moved through the living room into the kitchen.He spotted a few dishes in the sink, but nothing unusual.A calendar on the refrigerator showed a few marks and appointments: to get the car serviced, a doctor's appointment, and someone's birthday.
“This doesn't feel right,” Vic said, checking the bedroom.“Where's the fluorine equipment?The gas canisters?”
Miles was aware of the anger in her voice and he guessed he understood it.But he didn’t care.Not in that moment… not while they were standing in the house of the man who might have killed not just Elena, but three others over the course of the past week.
Miles opened cabinet doors and drawers, looking for anything that might connect Crawford to the murders.In a desk in the corner, he found bills, tax returns, and employment documents from Morrison Pharmaceuticals.He looked through the documents but could find nothing incriminating.
“Maybe we're wrong about him,” Vic said.
Miles was about to respond when he noticed something through the window above the kitchen sink.Past the small backyard, partially hidden behind a row of young but lush trees, was a smaller building.A shed or workshop, from the looks of it.A single light glowed from its single small window, barely visible in the morning sunlight, but unmistakable.
“There,” Miles pointed.“Back there.”
Vic moved to the window and looked out.The outbuilding was maybe thirty feet from the house, connected by a worn dirt path.It looked newer than the main house, with fresh siding and what appeared to be heavy-duty electrical cables running to it from a utility pole.It could have been used for a hundred different things, but Miles felt certain what they’d find out there.A makeshift lab with enough evidence to confirm that Crawford was their man.
“That's not a garden shed,” Vic said, confirming Miles’s suspicions at least slightly.
They left through the back door and crossed the yard.The grass was tall and damp from morning dew, brushing against their legs as they approached the outbuilding.Up close, Miles could see that the structure was larger than it had appeared from the house.He estimated that it might be around twenty by thirty feet.Now that they were closer, it was plain to see that the electrical setup was definitely industrial grade.
Vic grabbed him by the shoulder and positioned herself in front of him.“If we’re doing this, you keep your ass behind me.You’re not even armed for Gods’ sake.”
He nodded, the urgency in her voice momentarily bringing him to his senses.When Vic started forward, he fell in behind her as she pivoted beside the door.Miles watched as she tried the handle.
It was unlocked.She swung it open and strafed into the doorway, her Glock held out in front of her.The door opened into what did indeed looked to be some kind of a private laboratory.Workbenches lined three walls, covered with beakers, burners, and electronic equipment Miles couldn't identify.Chemical storage cabinets stood against the back wall, their glass doors revealing rows of bottles and containers.The air smelled strongly of cleaning solvents and something else.Something acrid.
“This is it,” Miles whispered.“Has to be…”
Vic nodded, her eyes cast to the left side of the building.She gestured with her gun in that direction and Miles looked.A staircase led down from the far corner of the lab, starting with a short wooden rail.They started in that direction, with Vic still in the lead.As they came closer to the stairs, Miles thought he could hear a faint sound coming from the semi-darkness below.It was mechanical in nature, a gentle hum.
Vic took point, her weapon raised as they descended the wooden steps.The basement opened into a larger space than Miles had expected.The ceiling was low but the room extended in both directions, lit by overhead fixtures that cast harsh shadows across an elaborate setup.
Industrial fans lined the walls, connected to a network of pipes and ventilation ducts.Gas canisters sat in specially built racks, connected to valves and pressure gauges.In the center of the room was a clear plexiglass chamber, large enough to hold several people.The setup looked professional.Military grade.
