Beneath the text was a complex array of what looked like nozzles for air hoses. Sam counted thirty of them. Each one had a little valve atop it, like the spigot for a garden hose. Each valve capped a narrow pipe that vanished into the concrete wall. Sam stared back up into the mammoth chamber and saw, after a moment, that pipes of the same size and color emerged from its smooth walls here and there, at varying heights. He guessed they were the other ends of these same pipes down here in front of him, and tried to imagine what this place was for. If someone wanted to, they could attach a tank of any kind of liquid—or maybe a gas—to these valves at floor level, and pump it through the pipes to a spot high up in the empty space above. For what reason, he couldn’t guess.

Whatever the case, one thing was certain: this room was what made Station 9 special. This was the reason the bad guys had needed to do their work here, and no place else.

Sam turned his attention back to the ruined crates and machinery. He and Dani made a quick search, but found nothing of interest. No shipping labels. No documents. No further sections of the Wells Town Post.

One room left.

They returned to the entry area, with the cages and the three doorways. Sam went to the third and looked through it into the final room.

There was a dead man lying on the floor.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Sam stared and didn’t move. A long time passed. In his peripheral vision he saw Dani appear beside him, not quite positioned to see into the last room.

“What is it?” she asked. There was fear in her voice, clamping it down like a shaking hand.

Sam glanced at the dead body again.

“Do you know if Mr. Pierce had black hair?” he asked.

Dani shook her head. “Lauren’s dad does—oh my God—”

Her fear forgotten, she came forward and stepped past Sam into the room. She all but ran to the dead man—Lauren’s father, apparently—but when she got there she didn’t know what to do. She started to kneel, and then didn’t; started to reach for him, but pulled back. She plowed her hands through her hair and just stood there, shaking.

Sam went to her. He stared down at the body on the floor. The man lay on his back with his eyes closed, his face bruised purple and deeply gashed. One of the bruises had a patterned edge, matching that of a boot’s sole. The bad guys had beaten him to death and left him here.