Chapter 4 - The Boy by the Service Door
Miguel would only meet outside.
“Not at the restaurant,” he whispered over the phone. “And not near your place.”
So the next morning, I met him at a bus stop across from a grocery store, with Detective Rachel Cole parked half a block away.
She had interviewed me at the hospital.
Before leaving, she had handed me her card.
“If anything strange happens, call.”
A lawyer offering fifty thousand dollars had seemed strange enough.
Miguel arrived wearing his work jacket inside out.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said.
“Do what?”
“Look like a kid in a spy movie.”
He tried to laugh.
It didn’t work.
“Paul told us you attacked a customer.”
“I attacked the floor.”
“I know.”
He stared at my wrist.
“Does it hurt?”
“Less than getting fired.”
His face tightened.
“He said if anybody talks, we’re done. He knows my mom works mornings in the kitchen.”
I sat beside him.
“Tell me what you saw.”
Miguel rubbed his palms on his jeans.
“After you caught the baby, Vanessa looked at him. Paul. Then he got a message.”
“From her?”
“I couldn’t see. But he went into the office.”
I remembered Paul standing near the dining room entrance a minute later.
“He said the system went down.”
“It didn’t. The screens were still on. I was carrying clean glasses past the office. He was at the computer, clicking through camera times.”
“Did you hear anything?”
Miguel nodded.
“He was on the phone. He said, ‘I can remove the main view. I can’t promise about the backup.’”
A city bus rolled past without stopping.
I watched its windows blur.
“Will you tell the detective?”
Miguel’s eyes filled.
“My mom needs that job.”
“I know.”
“If she loses it because of me—”
“I won’t tell you there won’t be consequences,” I said. “I can’t promise that.”
He looked at me.
“But a baby almost hit the floor. And the people covering it up are counting on us having too much to lose.”
Miguel sat very still.
Then he asked, “Is the detective here?”
I nodded toward the parked car.
He stood before I could say anything else.
At the same moment, my phone started vibrating.
It was my landlord.
“Lena,” she said, “there’s a woman in the lobby asking for you.”
“What woman?”
“She won’t give her name. Pink coat. Very expensive.”
My stomach dropped.
“Don’t let her upstairs.”
May you like
A pause.
Then my landlord said, “Honey, she’s already on the stairs.”
