Chapter 3 - The Yellow Canvas
Julian slipped behind the heavy fire door of the third-floor linen closet just as the fourth-floor service door creaked open.
He pressed his eye against the half-inch gap in the door frame, holding his breath until his lungs burned.
A man stepped out onto the concrete landing.
He wasn't wearing a maintenance uniform. He wore a heavy yellow vinyl apron over a dark canvas jacket, his arms wrapped in thick butcher’s plastic taped tight at the wrists. In his right hand, he carried a heavy five-gallon plastic jerrycan with a red cap. The smell hit Julian through the door seam a second later—industrial-grade lye. The kind used to strip grease off engine blocks, or melt organic matter down to gray sludge in under six hours.
The man paused on the landing, setting the heavy can down with a dull thud.
He reached up, pulled off his heavy rubber face mask, and wiped his forehead with the back of his gloved forearm.
Julian’s stomach dropped into a cold, dark void.
It was Dr. Nathan Sterling—the chief county coroner, the man who had signed the death certificates for the three missing patients from Ash Ridge two years ago, and the man who had adopted Julian’s little sister, Clara, eight months ago.
Sterling took a slow, deep breath, reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a small leather-bound pocket planner. He flipped it open, pulled a silver pen from his lapel, and made a neat mark on the page.
Julian leaned an inch closer to the gap in the door, his heart hammering against his ribs so loudly he was terrified Sterling would hear it.
On the open page of the planner, written in neat red ink, was a single column of names:
1. Sarah Vance - 04/12/23 - Cleared
2. David Miller - 11/08/24 - Cleared
3. Marcus Thorne - 02/15/25 - Cleared
May you like
4. Julian Mercer - TONIGHT
---
