Chapter 8 - The Boy at Table Twelve
Police placed a patrol car outside the Park home.
Celia Park was furious.
“You told me giving you the phone would make Owen safer.”
Detective Brooks answered carefully.
“I told you preserving the evidence was safer than hiding it.”
“My son is eleven.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Owen sat on the stairs listening.
Sofia saw him before the adults did.
She walked over.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”
That made him look at her.
“My mom says we might leave Chicago.”
“That might be smart.”
“Will Natalie win if we leave?”
“This isn’t a game.”
“I know.”
Sofia sat one step below him.
“You already did the brave part.”
Owen looked toward his mother.
“I made a backup.”
Sofia froze.
“Of the video?”
“Before the police took my phone.”
“Where?”
“My cloud account.”
“Tell Detective Brooks.”
“I did.”
“Good.”
He lowered his voice.
“There’s another video.”
Sofia stared.
“What?”
“I was filming before the stroller.”
“How long before?”
“Like twelve minutes.”
“Show me.”
Owen opened his tablet.
The earlier recording showed boats passing Glasswater.
His camera drifted across the restaurant windows.
Guests moved behind reflections.
Then a man appeared on the exterior service walkway.
Grant Hayes.
Sofia’s pulse jumped.
He looked toward Natalie.
Not accidentally.
Directly.
Natalie touched her wrist.
Grant did the same.
The gesture Sofia had seen at the hospital.
Two fingers to the wrist.
A signal.
Then Grant disappeared around the building.
Three minutes later Natalie answered a call.
Sofia whispered, “Oh my God.”
Michael watched the clip twice.
On the third viewing, he noticed something else.
“Stop.”
Owen paused.
Grant was holding a phone.
Not his normal phone.
A cheap black device.
Detective Brooks leaned toward the screen.
“Possible burner.”
Michael’s jaw clenched.
Owen asked, “Is that bad?”
Brooks answered, “It’s useful.”
Celia stood.
“That’s enough. My son is done.”
“Mrs. Park—”
“No. He testified to what he saw. You have copies. I’m taking him to my sister’s house.”
Nobody argued.
After they left, Michael faced Sofia.
“You recognized Laura. You knew she had been investigating something.”
“I told you everything I remembered.”
“Not immediately.”
She stared at him.
“You’re blaming me?”
“I’m saying delay matters.”
“So does punching suspects in front of photographers.”
He looked away.
She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.
But they were true.
Michael’s assault on Grant had given the board exactly what Grant needed.
That afternoon, Hayes Meridian directors voted seven to four to place Michael on temporary administrative leave pending an independent review of his conduct.
Grant became acting chief executive.
Michael read the notice in silence.
“You lost your company?” Sofia asked.
“Temporarily.”
“Because you hit him.”
“Yes.”
She expected defensiveness.
Instead he said, “That was my mistake.”
Grant called ten minutes later.
Michael put it on speaker.
“Congratulations,” Michael said.
Grant laughed softly.
“You think I wanted this?”
“Yes.”
“You always mistake consequences for conspiracies.”
“Owen recorded you at Glasswater.”
Silence.
Sofia closed her eyes.
Michael had revealed too much.
Grant’s voice changed.
“Who is Owen?”
Michael realized it too late.
Sofia grabbed the phone and ended the call.
“What are you doing?”
Michael stared at her.
Then horror filled his face.
He had just told Grant the child witness had more evidence.
Brooks swore under her breath.
Less than an hour later, officers outside the Park home reported that someone had thrown a brick through the front window.
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Attached to it was a message:
NEXT TIME IT WON’T BE GLASS.
