Then building management.
Then HR.
Then a detective who asked where I was between 8:30 and 9:00 and whether I had spoken to anyone from the vendor group that morning. I answered everything carefully, still half-numb, while Ranger paced the kitchen like he was working.
By noon, the first facts began surfacing.
No explosion.
No fire.
No shooter.
A gas release.
But not from the building lines.
From inside the conference room itself.
Somebody had tampered with a demonstration device a vendor brought in—an industrial air-quality monitor attached to a compressed gas canister. The monitor was supposed to test sealed environments. Instead, when activated in the conference suite, it released a concentrated burst of toxic gas through the room’s intake cycle. It spread fast, and because the suite was soundproofed and the first victims dropped near the table, no one got out in time.
The detective came by the house that afternoon.
His name was Lieutenant Keller, gray suit, tired eyes, no wasted movement. He sat across from me at my dining table while Ranger positioned himself between us, watchful but calm.
“You were expected in that room,” Keller said.
