“Because I know what it is like to lose someone,” I said.

“And I know what it is like when people lie about how they went.”

Ethan nodded slowly.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small electronic badge.

“This is a master key for the old medical center,” he said.

“It still works.”

“The archive is on level B2.”

I took the badge from him.

It was cold and plastic.

“Be careful,” Ethan said.

“I will,” I said.

I stood up to leave.

“Grace,” Ethan called out.

I stopped and looked back.

“If you find anything,” he said, “call me immediately.”

“Do not try to handle it alone.”

“I won’t,” I said.

I walked out of the diner and back into the rain.

The drive to Chicago took forty minutes.

The city was dark, the tall buildings wrapped in low clouds.

I parked two blocks away from the old medical center.

It was a brick building, mostly abandoned now, waiting for demolition.

I walked quickly down the wet street, my hood pulled low.

The service entrance was in the alley.