Chapter 2 - THE PEOPLE WHO COULDN’T AFFORD LAWYERS
Gregory denied everything.
Of course he did.
Men like him rarely confess when confronted with evidence. They explain. They redefine. They insult the person holding it. They pretend confusion is the same thing as innocence.
“That list is nothing,” he said. “Adjustments. Tips. Uniform costs.”
“Uniform costs?” I repeated.
Gregory shot me a look.
“You weren’t even supposed to be in here.”
Ethan held the paper between two fingers.
“Luis Ortega. Mei Chen. Nora Davis. I assume these are employees.”
“Former contractors.”
“You told me Nora was unstable.”
“She is.”
“You told me she barely worked here.”
“She didn’t.”
“You now have a document showing deductions from money supposedly belonging to her.”
Gregory’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Ethan looked almost bored.
That terrified Gregory more than anger would have.
I had met angry men.
Angry men wanted you to know they were dangerous.
Ethan Hayes didn’t seem to need anyone’s agreement.
Finn entered the office carrying my wet jacket, which someone had apparently removed while I was unconscious.
“Car’s outside.”
Ethan nodded.
Then looked at me.
“Where do you live?”
I stiffened.
“That’s none of your business.”
“I’m not asking because I plan to visit.”
“Good.”
“You said your sitter leaves in ten minutes.”
My stomach dropped.
I looked at the clock.
Six twenty-eight.
“Oh God.”
I grabbed my bag.
My legs still felt wrong, but fear could apparently substitute for blood sugar when necessary.
I reached the hallway before Ethan spoke.
“Finn.”
The security man moved.
I turned.
“No.”
“I’m sending you home.”
“I can take the subway.”
“You passed out.”
“I’ve passed out before.”
Silence.
I heard the sentence after I said it.
So did Ethan.
His face changed slightly.
I hated that.
Pity from wealthy people always felt like surveillance.
“I don’t need charity.”
“Good,” Ethan said. “I didn’t offer any.”
I glared at him.
He nodded toward the door.
“You’re being driven because I don’t need you collapsing again before I finish asking questions.”
“That sounds suspiciously like concern.”
“It isn’t.”
“Fine.”
Finn opened the rear door of a black SUV.
I climbed inside.
To my surprise, Ethan followed.
“What are you doing?”
“Going with you.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He held up the folded payroll strip.
“Because Gregory is terrified of this, and I want to know why.”
I should have told him to get out.
Instead, I looked at the clock.
Six thirty-one.
“Drive.”
Mrs. Higgins was standing outside my building when we arrived.
Sam was bundled in a puffy blue coat in her arms.
The sight of him ripped every other thought from me.
I jumped out before the SUV stopped completely.
“Mommy!”
I took him.
He smelled like baby shampoo and crackers.
I buried my face in his hair.
“I’m sorry.”
Mrs. Higgins stared at the black SUV.
Then at Ethan.
Then back at me.
“Nora, what is going on?”
“I got delayed.”
“You said six-thirty.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t answer.”
“My phone died.”
Her expression softened only slightly.
“Your power went off.”
“What?”
“At six. I went upstairs for his blanket. Nothing. No lights.”
My chest tightened.
The utility company had moved faster than the notice said.
Mrs. Higgins lowered her voice.
“I can’t leave him in a dark apartment with no heat.”
“I have the money now.”
“Do you?”
I pulled the bills from my wallet.
She looked relieved.
Then ashamed for being relieved.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“No. You’re right.”
She hesitated.
“There was another call.”
My stomach went cold.
“What call?”
“Child services.”
The sidewalk seemed to tilt exactly the way the restaurant floor had.
“They called you?”
“No. They called me because somebody reported that you were leaving Sam unsupervised and using drugs.”
My mouth went dry.
“What?”
Mrs. Higgins shook her head quickly.
“I told them it was nonsense. I told them you work nights. I told them you’re exhausted, not high.”
I felt Ethan behind me.
Still.
Listening.
“Who reported it?”
“They wouldn’t say.”
I knew.
Not because I had proof.
Because Gregory had looked at me in the office and said I was lucky he didn’t call the police.
I had walked into his restaurant asking for wages.
Within an hour, someone had accused me of being an unfit mother.
Coincidence is a luxury poor people learn not to trust.
A sedan stopped at the curb.
A woman in a navy coat got out carrying a folder.
“Ms. Davis?”
My heart dropped.
“Yes.”
“I’m Carla Nguyen with Family Services.”
Sam tightened his arms around my neck.
Every muscle in my body locked.
Ethan stepped forward.
I put up one hand.
“No.”
He stopped.
“This is my problem.”
Carla looked between us.
“Is this your attorney?”
“No.”
“Friend?”
“No.”
Ethan’s eyebrow moved.
I ignored him.
“He gave me a ride.”
Carla nodded.
“I received a report involving utility shutoff, possible abandonment and substance use. I need to speak with you.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I did the only useful thing I had learned from living close to the edge for years.
I told the truth.
The power was off.
Yes.
I had money to restore it.
I worked cash jobs.
Yes.
I had been fired unexpectedly.
No, I did not use drugs.
No, Sam was never alone.
Mrs. Higgins confirmed everything.
Carla asked to enter the apartment.
I agreed.
The apartment was cold.
Not freezing.
But cold enough.
I switched on a lamp.
Nothing.
Sam pointed.
“Light broken.”
“I know, baby.”
Carla examined the kitchen.
Two cans of soup.
Rice.
Peanut butter.
Half a loaf of bread.
Formula.
Not enough.
But not nothing.
She looked inside the refrigerator.
“You need the electricity restored tonight.”
“I will.”
Ethan spoke from the doorway.
“I can have it restored in five minutes.”
I spun toward him.
“No.”
Carla looked at him.
“So you are family?”
“No,” we both said.
That almost would have been funny.
I took the three hundred from my wallet.
“This is money owed to me by my former employer. I’m paying the bill myself.”
Carla watched me.
Then nodded.
“Good.”
I called the utility company.
Twenty-seven minutes later, after a payment, reconnection fee and argument with a supervisor, the lights came back.
Sam cheered.
I nearly cried.
Carla closed her folder.
“I’m not removing your son tonight.”
My knees almost gave out.
“But I need a follow-up visit.”
“Fine.”
“And I want documentation of your employment situation.”
“I was paid under the table.”
“That complicates things.”
From behind me, Ethan said:
“Not anymore.”
I turned.
He held out his phone.
On the screen was a photograph Finn had sent.
Gregory’s office.
A metal trash bin.
Inside it were shredded time sheets.
Finn had recovered the pieces before Gregory could destroy them.
My name was visible on one fragment.
So was the same number from the strip.
Three hundred.
Carla looked at it.
“What is that?”
“Evidence,” Ethan said.
I stared at him.
“You went back?”
“Finn never left.”
Of course he hadn’t.
Carla gave me her card.
“Send me copies. This matters.”
After she left, Mrs. Higgins squeezed my shoulder and took the elevator down.
Sam fell asleep against me.
The apartment was warm again.
For the first time all day, I could breathe.
Then my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I opened the message.
A photograph appeared.
My old employee locker at L’Osteria.
Open.
Empty.
Underneath it was one sentence.
You should have taken your money and kept your mouth shut.
Ethan read over my shoulder.
His expression changed.
“Gregory?”
“I think so.”
Another message arrived.
This time it was a photograph of Sam.
Taken from across the street.
I stopped breathing.
The caption underneath contained only four words.
Nice kid. Shame if—
Ethan took the phone from my hand before I finished reading.
Every trace of detachment disappeared from his face.
“Finn.”
Finn answered immediately.
“Boss?”
“Get upstairs.”
I grabbed the phone back.
“No.”
Ethan looked at me.
“No what?”
“You don’t turn this into some war.”
“A man just sent you a photograph of your child.”
“I know.”
“He threatened him.”
“I know!”
Sam shifted in my arms.
I lowered my voice.
“I know.”
Ethan’s jaw flexed.
“Then what do you want?”
It was the first time he had asked me that.
Not told.
Asked.
I looked at my sleeping son.
Then at the message.
“I want proof.”
“Of what?”
“That Gregory sent it.”
“And then?”
I looked at Ethan.
“I want every worker he stole from to get their money.”
Ethan stared at me for several seconds.
Then something that almost resembled approval appeared in his eyes.
“Good.”
His phone buzzed.
Finn.
Ethan answered.
Listened.
Then looked at me.
“What?”
He turned the phone so I could hear.
Finn’s voice came through.
“We rebuilt part of the shredded payroll. Gregory didn’t steal from fifteen workers.”
My stomach tightened.
“How many?”
May you like
Finn paused.
“Forty-three.”
