Chapter 11 - Flashback To The Fatal Night Of Studio Fire
Memory dragged Harrison violently back to the freezing night in Boston when he locked the heavy oak doors of the downtown studio.
He could still smell the acrid scent of burning gasoline and hear Julian pounding desperately from inside the locked back room.
Harrison had chosen wealth, power, and absolute dominance over human life, convincing himself that dead men tell no corporate tales.
He had walked away into the snowy night clutching a leather briefcase filled with patents that did not rightfully belong to him.
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For twenty years, he lived like a king, enjoying the fruits of a murder disguised as an accidental electrical fire.
Now, the ghost of Julian Vance had returned not in a shroud of ash, but in the innocent face of an eight-year-old girl.
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