Chapter 2 - The Man Everyone Feared
Detective Lena Alvarez did not ask whether I wanted coffee.
She did not ask whether I needed a ride home.
She brought me into a consultation room and placed three photographs on the table.
The first showed the underground garage.
The second showed Elsie entering an elevator with a man wearing a baseball cap.
The third showed me.
Walking into the garage twenty-seven minutes later.
“You understand why we need to establish a timeline,” Lena said.
“I understand.”
“Why were you there?”
“I told you. I missed my bus.”
“Your restaurant closes at eleven.”
“I got off at eleven thirty-five.”
“Why?”
“My manager kept me late.”
She wrote something down.
“Harlan Voss says you had no previous connection with his family.”
“I don’t.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“No employment application?”
“No.”
“No charity assistance?”
“No.”
“No contact with Voss Meridian Holdings?”
“I barely know what that is.”
She studied me.
“You live in Corktown.”
“Yes.”
“Behind on rent?”
Heat rose in my face.
“That’s not relevant.”
“It may be.”
“How?”
“Because people in financial trouble sometimes accept unusual opportunities.”
There it was.
The accusation wrapped in professional language.
“You think I helped kidnap a child for money?”
“I think I don’t know you.”
“I found her.”
“So you’ve said.”
My anger finally surfaced.
“Then arrest me or let me go.”
The door opened before Lena answered.
Harlan entered.
He had removed his suit jacket.
His sleeves were rolled once.
He looked more dangerous that way, not less.
Lena frowned.
“This is a police interview.”
“My attorney says she isn’t under arrest.”
“She isn’t.”
“Then I’m taking her home.”
I stared at him.
“You’re what?”
“You’ve been here three hours.”
“I can get home myself.”
“At three in the morning?”
“I’ve managed this long.”
His gaze shifted to the photograph of me entering the garage.
Then to Lena.
“Did you tell her?”
Lena’s jaw tightened.
“Not yet.”
“Tell me what?”
Harlan took the chair across from me.
“The garage camera malfunctioned for forty-three minutes tonight.”
I looked at the picture.
“You have a photo of me.”
“From a traffic camera across the exit.”
“Inside the garage?”
“Nothing.”
Lena folded her arms.
“The system went dark six minutes before Elsie arrived.”
“And returned when?”
“Three minutes after the ambulance left.”
My skin prickled.
“That’s not random.”
“No,” Harlan said.
Lena glanced at him.
“We don’t know that yet.”
“Yes, we do.”
His confidence was unnerving.
“You seem very sure of things,” I said.
“I have to be.”
I thought about Conrad’s phone.
My mouth went dry.
“Detective.”
Lena looked at me.
“The number on the bunny.”
Harlan’s attention sharpened.
“What about it?”
“I saw it again.”
“Where?”
“On Conrad’s phone.”
Nobody moved.
Lena leaned forward.
“You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
Harlan’s expression became unreadable.
“It rang when he was standing in the hospital hallway. Same number.”
“Did you see the full number?” Lena asked.
“Most of it. Maybe all.”
She turned a notepad toward me.
“Write what you remember.”
I did.
Harlan stared at the digits.
He took out his own phone.
One of those numbers, apparently, meant something to him.
“What?” Lena asked.
“It belongs to a prepaid account purchased through one of our corporate security vendors.”
“Which vendor?”
“North Gate.”
Lena frowned.
“Victor Sloan’s division?”
Harlan nodded once.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
I remembered Victor in the ambulance.
She could be part of it.
Now I wondered who “it” really included.
Lena gathered the photographs.
“Mara, I need you not to discuss this with anyone.”
“I don’t exactly have a social club waiting for updates.”
Harlan looked at me.
“You’re coming with me.”
“No.”
Lena almost smiled.
Harlan did not.
“No?”
“I don’t know you.”
“My daughter trusts you.”
“She met me unconscious on a parking garage floor.”
“She asked for you.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m moving into one of your SUVs.”
His eyebrows rose slightly.
For the first time, I saw why powerful people probably hated being told no by him.
I stood.
“I’m going home.”
“I’ll have a driver take you.”
“I can call a cab.”
“With what money?”
My face burned.
“That was rude.”
“It was.”
He didn’t apologize.
Then he reached into his pocket.
“I’ll pay—”
“No.”
“I was going to say your cab.”
“Still no.”
He studied me for a long second.
“Fine.”
Ten minutes later, I walked out of the hospital and discovered every rideshare in downtown Detroit wanted nearly sixty dollars.
Harlan was standing beside an SUV.
He said nothing.
I hated him a little for that.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I can see it on your face.”
“What do you see?”
“‘Get in the car, Mara.’”
He opened the rear door.
“Get in the car, Mara.”
Against my better judgment, I laughed.
It surprised both of us.
The ride took fifteen minutes.
Neither Harlan nor I spoke much.
He asked about my manager.
I told him Neal owned the restaurant.
He asked whether anyone there knew my walking route.
I told him half the staff did.
Then I turned toward him.
“Why is everyone afraid of you?”
His eyes stayed on the window.
“Are they?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe they know better than you.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“No.”
“So what are you? Crime boss?”
The driver almost coughed.
Harlan finally looked at me.
“No.”
“Gangster?”
“No.”
“Professional villain?”
“Occasionally, according to the business press.”
I waited.
He sighed.
“My father built a logistics company in neighborhoods nobody else invested in. He also made enemies. I inherited both.”
“And the fear?”
“I don’t lose easily.”
“That sounds suspiciously like something a villain says.”
One corner of his mouth moved.
Then my building appeared.
So did the red notice taped to the front door.
FINAL DEMAND.
I closed my eyes.
“Perfect.”
Harlan read it before I could step out.
“Your landlord posts those publicly?”
“Apparently humiliation is included in the rent.”
I opened the door.
“Mara.”
“No.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You’re going to offer money.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“You saved my child.”
“I didn’t do it for money.”
“That doesn’t mean you should lose your home.”
“That’s exactly why I can’t take it.”
He looked genuinely confused.
“If you pay my rent tonight, tomorrow I’m the broke waitress who was bought by Harlan Voss.”
“I don’t care what people think.”
“I do.”
That stopped him.
I climbed out.
At the entrance, I turned back.
“How is Elsie?”
“Stable. They’re keeping her overnight.”
“Tell her I said goodnight.”
“I will.”
I reached for the lobby door.
“Mara.”
I looked over my shoulder.
“Thank you.”
This time, he said it as a father.
Not a businessman.
Not a feared man.
Just a father.
“You’re welcome.”
The SUV pulled away.
I went upstairs.
My apartment was exactly as I had left it.
Cold.
Quiet.
Two dishes in the sink.
A stack of unopened bills.
I showered and crawled into bed at four twelve.
At six thirty, someone pounded on my door.
Neal.
My manager.
I stared through the peephole.
“What do you want?”
“Open up.”
“No.”
“Mara, this is serious.”
“So was keeping me late.”
“I got police at the restaurant asking questions.”
“That sounds like your problem.”
“They asked about you.”
I opened the door three inches with the chain still locked.
Neal’s face was pale.
“Were you in that parking garage?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I found a little girl.”
His eyes flicked down the hallway.
“You need to stop talking.”
My exhaustion disappeared.
“What?”
“Whatever you saw, whatever they ask you, you didn’t see anything.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
He stepped closer.
“Because people like Harlan Voss don’t forget witnesses.”
“You know Harlan?”
“No.”
“You said his name before I did.”
Neal froze.
That was enough.
I started closing the door.
He shoved his shoe against it.
“Mara.”
“Move your foot.”
“Listen to me.”
“No. You listen. I am tired. I am broke. I am being evicted. And I just spent the night keeping a child alive while grown men in thousand-dollar suits acted like I was the suspicious one. I am not being intimidated in my own doorway.”
His eyes hardened.
“You don’t understand what you walked into.”
“Then explain it.”
He looked down the hallway again.
When he spoke, his voice dropped.
“The girl wasn’t supposed to be found by you.”
Everything inside me went quiet.
“What did you say?”
Neal’s face changed.
As if he realized too late what had come out of his mouth.
Then the stairwell door opened.
Two men stepped onto my floor.
Neither wore a uniform.
Neal backed away.
The taller man looked directly at me.
“Mara Ellison?”
I slammed my door.
The chain caught.
A hand struck the other side.
My phone was across the room.
The chain jerked again.
Then someone outside shouted.
Not one of the strangers.
A voice I recognized.
“Step away from her door.”
Harlan.
Silence followed.
Then a heavy thud.
I grabbed my phone.
Before I could dial, a text appeared from an unknown number.
A photograph loaded.
It showed me kneeling beside Elsie in the garage.
Taken from only a few yards away.
May you like
Beneath it were six words.
YOU WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO SEE HER.
