“Beatrice came to me a week before the fundraiser,” Darrow said, his voice barely audible.

“Speak up,” I said, stepping forward.

Darrow looked up at me, his face pale in the lamp light.

“She wanted the building to burn,” Darrow said. “She told me she needed a distraction, a tragedy that would destroy the charity’s records.”

“And the service doors?” Liam asked.

“She gave me the key to the chains,” Darrow said, his voice cracking. “She paid me to make sure the side exit doors were locked from the outside before the event started.”

My heart hammered against my ribs, the room suddenly feeling suffocatingly hot.

“You knew people were inside,” I said, my voice shaking. “You knew I was in there.”

“She told me everyone would get out through the main lobby,” Darrow pleaded, his hands raised. “She said it was just a scare. She wanted to ruin the foundation’s credibility.”

“You locked the doors,” Liam said, his eyes burning with rage. “You took fifty thousand dollars to trap my wife in a burning building.”