CHAPTER EIGHT — THE ROOM THAT LOOKED NORMAL
A building inspector visited Rachel’s property after the police released the rehearsal room for a safety review.
He examined both exits, the temporary replacement alarm, and the partition that Dana’s crew had erected to create a waiting area.
The partition was made of ordinary folding panels and did not reach the ceiling.
“This room was never approved for overnight use,” the inspector said.
“It wasn’t rented for that.”
“The questions about occupancy aren’t the same as the criminal questions.”
Rachel accompanied him into the storage closet.
She had kept paint cans there before converting the room.
Dana’s crew had replaced them with garment racks, mirrors, and several cardboard boxes of printed audition packets.
The inspector found an additional doorstop positioned where it could interfere with an exit path.
Rachel photographed it before moving anything.
“The doorstop isn’t illegal by itself,” he explained.
“Its placement becomes dangerous if a crowd needs to leave quickly.”
“I told them not to block the corridor.”
“You need the whole room under one set of rules, whether you’re present or not.”
Rachel listened carefully.
She had taken comfort in checking the property before and after rehearsals.
She now understood how quickly a room could change between visits.
The inspector required a written occupancy plan before any future rental.
Rachel agreed.
When the inspector left, Rachel called the community arts coordinator who had originally recommended the Northstar group.
The coordinator, Evelyn Brooks, answered after several rings.
“I heard about the incident,” Evelyn said.
“I need to ask how you knew Celia Hart.”
“I didn’t know her personally.”
“You gave her my number.”
“I passed along a request for affordable rehearsal space.”
“Did you verify that she represented Northstar?”
A silence followed.
“I assumed the organization had vetted her.”
“Which organization?”
“The regional theater council.”
Rachel wrote the name down.
“Did anyone at the council tell you that?”
“No,” Evelyn admitted.
“The email had their letterhead.”
Rachel thanked her and ended the call.
She stared at the empty doorway of the rehearsal room.
The fraud had traveled through a chain of reasonable assumptions.
Each person had trusted a different person to perform a check.
Dana had needed only to sound confident while the chain held.
Later that day, Rachel received permission to attend a meeting with concerned parents at the public library.
Leo’s advocate was present to ensure that no child was pressured to repeat private statements.
The parents compared what they had been told about auditions, payment terms, and travel.
Rachel did not ask them to reconstruct possible crimes in front of one another.
Instead, she discussed practical problems that remained unresolved.
Several families had paid deposits for future workshops.
Some had bought costumes that could not be returned.
Others had taken unpaid leave to drive their children to auditions.
“I don’t care whether I get my money back,” one father said.
“I want to know who told my daughter that she was too frightened to become an actor.”
A mother across the table answered him.
“You can care about both.”
The room fell quiet.
Rachel saw in those two sentences how much harm could remain after a single frightening night.
