The lead investigator called the next afternoon. They wanted Rowan present when they reviewed the full contents of the vault for an official report. “You were the one who brought this to light,” she said. “And a lot of what’s in there appears to exist because of your father.”
In a quiet records room, the chest sat open on a central table. Archivists and investigators clustered around, gloved hands carefully sorting papers. Rowan stood nearby, feeling out of place among their calm efficiency. Someone passed him a stack stamped with both Harrington letterhead and his father’s cramped annotations.