I walked deeper into the room.

The silence was absolute, except for the dripping of a pipe somewhere in the distance.

I found the section labeled *2024 – Confidential Admissions.*

My heart began to beat faster.

I searched the boxes, looking for the letter W.

*Whitman.* *Whitmore, Charles.* *Whitmore, Claire.*

I pulled the folder out.

It was thick.

I opened it and shined my flashlight on the first page.

It was the admission report from the night she died.

I ran my finger down the page, reading the medical terms.

And then I saw it.

A handwritten note at the bottom of the page, signed by Dr. Vance.

It did not match the official report Ethan had shown me.

Before I could read the words, I heard a sound.

The heavy iron door at the entrance of the archive creaked.

Footsteps began to echo down the concrete aisle.

Slow, deliberate footsteps.

Someone was in the basement with me.

I quickly shut the folder and pressed myself against the metal shelf.

The beam of another flashlight swept across the ceiling.

“Grace?” a voice called out.