I pointed to the small, white slip of paper stapled to the very back of the Zurich report.

“This is a laboratory shipping manifest,” I said.

The sergeant shone his heavy flashlight directly onto the slip.

The bright white beam illuminated a small, circular stamp at the bottom of the page.

“The compound was shipped to a private research facility in Basel,” I continued.

“So?” Vivian scoffed, crossing her arms tightly against the wind. “Many clinics are in Basel.”

“The facility is owned by Vance Laboratories,” I said.

The courtyard went completely silent, save for the crackle of the flames and the distant shouting of the firefighters.

Alexander turned his head slowly toward Celeste.

“Vance,” Alexander repeated. “Your family’s firm.”

Celeste took a slow, deliberate breath.

“My family owns dozens of facilities across Europe,” Celeste said. “We supply medicines to thousands of patients. This proves nothing.”

“There is an authorization signature on the manifest,” the sergeant said.

He raised the flashlight closer to the paper.

“It authorizes the release of the compound to a private residence in upstate New York,” the sergeant read aloud.