Dina stepped past me and pulled the pin on the fire extinguisher.

With a loud hiss, a thick white cloud of chemical foam sprayed over the trash bin, instantly smothering the flames.

The room fell into a sudden, quiet darkness, save for the beam of Miller’s flashlight.

Helen dropped the matchbox into the wet foam, her shoulders shaking as she began to cry.

Miller walked over, pulled Helen to her feet, and pushed her arms behind her back.

“Helen Caldwell, you are under arrest,” Miller said, snapping the cuffs onto her wrists.

As Miller led her away, Helen stopped in front of me, her face inches from mine.

“You’ll never keep this place running without us,” Helen whispered. “The board will sell it. You have nothing left.”

“I have the truth,” I said. “And that’s more than you ever had.”

They escorted Helen up the stairs, leaving me, Marcus, and Dina in the smoky archive room.

I looked around at the shelves of old binders and files.

In the corner, covered by a grey plastic tarp, sat a large, rectangular frame.