Chapter 3 - I had never seen an adult move that fast.Vincent crossed the restaurant before the guards did.
We reached the kitchen.
A tray had shattered on the floor.
People were shouting.
A man in a dark jacket was trying to drag Mom toward the back exit.
Mom fought him.
“Let me go!”
Vincent said one word.
“Drop her.”
The man stopped.
He looked over his shoulder.
Vincent stood behind him.
No gun.
No shouting.
Just an empty expression.
The man released Mom.
She stumbled backward.
A guard grabbed her and pulled her behind him.
I ran forward.
“Mom!”
She dropped to her knees and hugged me so tightly I could barely breathe.
“Rory, what did you do?”
I started crying.
“I found someone who could make Mr. Sterling pay.”
Mom looked at Vincent.
Then at David.
Then at the work log in his hand.
She understood.
Her face turned pale.
“Mr. Kane.”
Vincent nodded.
“Mrs. Carter.”
Mom stood slowly.
“I didn't ask you to get involved.”
“No.”
He looked at the broken plate.
“But someone else decided you were worth frightening.”
The man who had grabbed Mom was now restrained.
Vincent looked at him.
“Who sent you?”
The man smiled.
“Doesn't matter.”
Vincent nodded.
“Of course it does.”
He gestured.
The guard searched the man's pockets.
Wallet.
Phone.
Keys.
Then they found a small flash drive taped beneath his belt.
Vincent took it.
“What is this?”
The man said nothing.
David suddenly shouted.
“Give that to me.”
Vincent looked at him.
“Why?”
David's face tightened.
“It's company property.”
Vincent smiled.
“Now I definitely want it.”
He handed it to one of his men.
“Open it.”
The guard connected the drive to a laptop.
Folders appeared.
Payroll.
Invoices.
Insurance.
Tax records.
And one folder with no label.
Vincent clicked it.
Inside were photographs.
Dozens.
Employees entering the restaurant.
Employees leaving.
Bank deposits.
Cars.
Houses.
People meeting in parking lots.
Mom stared at the screen.
“What is that?”
Vincent scrolled.
Then stopped.
There was a photograph of Mom.
Taken three days earlier.
She was standing outside our apartment.
Looking up at the window.
Mom's hand went to her mouth.
“I never saw anyone.”
Vincent stared at the image.
“Neither did I.”
Another photograph appeared.
Me.
Walking to the bus stop with Mom.
Then another.
Me entering Sterling's Bistro.
Then another.
My red hoodie.
Vincent shut the laptop.
His face had gone completely cold.
“Everyone leaves through the front door.”
His guards looked confused.
Vincent continued.
“But someone has been watching you.”
Mom whispered:
“Why?”
No one answered.
Then the restrained man laughed.
Vincent turned.
The man's eyes met his.
“You think this is about five thousand dollars?”
Vincent said nothing.
The man smiled.
“That's the bait.”
Mom tightened her grip around me.
Vincent's expression sharpened.
“What is the real number?”
The man's smile widened.
“Seventy-seven.”
My mother looked confused.
Vincent looked at the work log.
Then back at the man.
“Explain.”
The man shook his head.
“Ask David.”
Everyone turned.
David's face had gone white.
Vincent stepped toward him.
“Seventy-seven what?”
David whispered:
“Days.”
“Seventy-seven days of what?”
David didn't answer.
The man laughed again.
“Not days.”
He looked directly at me.
“Names.”
Vincent froze.
I didn't know what he meant.
My mother didn't either.
But David did.
Because David suddenly ran.
He pushed past a waiter and sprinted toward the rear door.
Vincent's men chased him.
But Vincent didn't move.
He was staring at me.
More specifically, at the red hoodie I was wearing.
“Rory.”
“Yes?”
“Where did you get that hoodie?”
“My mom bought it.”
Vincent's face changed.
“What was inside the pocket when she bought it?”
I frowned.
“Nothing.”
Then I remembered.
There had been something.
A tiny white tag.
I reached inside the pocket.
My fingers touched paper.
I pulled it out.
Vincent took it.
There was one line written on it.
77
He looked at Mom.
Then at me.
Then at David running into the darkness.
“Your mother didn't walk into my restaurant today by accident.”
Mom stared at him.
“What are you saying?”
Vincent folded the note.
“I'm saying someone wanted Rory to find that ledger.”
My stomach dropped.
Vincent turned toward the guards.
“Lock every exit.”
Then he looked at me.
“And find out who knew the little girl's exact route to this restaurant.”
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Because suddenly, the unpaid wages were no longer the most frightening thing in the room.
Someone had planned for me to walk straight to Vincent Kane.
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