Chapter 3 - The Number on the Bunny
Harlan stood inside my apartment ten minutes later, staring at the photograph on my phone.
Victor stood behind him.
So did another guard named Mateo.
Neal was gone.
The two men from the hallway had disappeared down the rear stairwell.
“No one followed them?” I asked.
Mateo shook his head.
“They had a vehicle waiting.”
Harlan enlarged the photograph.
“This was taken inside the blackout window.”
“That means someone had a camera even when the security system was down.”
“Yes.”
“And they were watching Elsie.”
“Yes.”
I wrapped my arms around myself.
My apartment suddenly seemed exposed.
No security desk.
No cameras.
One lock I had bought for fourteen dollars at a hardware store.
“How did you know to come here?”
Harlan looked at Victor.
Victor answered.
“Your landlord called Mr. Voss’s office.”
“Why?”
“Harlan paid the balance on the building.”
I stared at him.
“You did what?”
“Not your rent.”
“That distinction is not helping.”
“The landlord had three active code violations and was using eviction pressure to force tenants out before redevelopment. My legal team contacted him.”
“You bought my building?”
“No.”
“Did you threaten him?”
“No.”
Victor coughed.
I looked at him.
“Did he?”
Victor found the floor fascinating.
Harlan folded his arms.
“He agreed to suspend all unlawful eviction notices pending review.”
“You had no right.”
“You are correct.”
That answer threw me.
“I’m correct?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you do it?”
“Because somebody followed you home.”
I wanted to argue.
The text on my phone made it difficult.
He put the phone on the table.
“You cannot stay here.”
“I’m not going to your house.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You were about to.”
“I was going to suggest a secure hotel.”
“No.”
“Mara.”
“Harlan.”
Victor looked between us like he had wandered into a tennis match.
Harlan exhaled.
“What would make you comfortable?”
“My life from yesterday.”
“I can’t give you that.”
“Then stop deciding things for me.”
His jaw tightened.
But he nodded.
“Fair.”
I sat.
“What happens now?”
“Police trace the message.”
“Can they?”
“Probably not quickly.”
“And Neal?”
“We find him.”
Victor spoke carefully.
“Harlan.”
Something passed between them.
“What?” I asked.
Victor took a tablet from his jacket.
“We checked Mara’s restaurant employment records.”
“And?”
“Neal Patterson isn’t the legal owner.”
I frowned.
“He bought it three years ago.”
“The holding company that owns the restaurant is Greyline Hospitality.”
“So?”
“Greyline is controlled by Conrad Voss.”
The room went silent.
I remembered Conrad at the hospital.
His phone.
The number beneath Elsie’s bunny ear.
“No.”
Harlan’s face had gone hard.
“My brother owns the place where you work.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“You own half the city. Maybe it’s normal.”
“It isn’t.”
Victor continued.
“Greyline acquired the restaurant seventeen months ago. Conrad used a shell corporation.”
I tried to understand.
“Did he know I worked there?”
“We don’t know.”
“Why would that matter?”
Harlan looked at me.
“Maybe it doesn’t.”
Nobody believed that.
My phone rang.
Detective Alvarez.
I answered on speaker.
“Mara, are you safe?”
“Define safe.”
“Are you with Harlan?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Stay there.”
“What happened?”
“We traced the prepaid number.”
I looked at Harlan.
“Where?”
“It was activated nine months ago. We can’t identify the purchaser yet, but we pulled call records.”
“And?”
“It called one number repeatedly.”
“Whose?”
Lena paused.
“Neal Patterson.”
My stomach turned.
Harlan stood.
“Where is he?”
“We’re looking.”
“I’ll have my people—”
“No, you won’t,” Lena snapped. “You will stay out of my investigation.”
“He approached Mara’s apartment.”
“And if you interfere, I’ll charge you with obstruction.”
Harlan looked almost amused.
“I’d like to see you try.”
“I’d enjoy it.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
Lena continued.
“Mara, there’s something else.”
“What?”
“Neal made another call seventeen minutes after Elsie left Harlan’s house.”
“To whom?”
“We’re working on subscriber identification.”
“Number?”
She read it.
Victor typed.
His face changed.
“What?” Harlan asked.
“That’s one of ours.”
“What do you mean?”
“Internal executive line.”
“Whose?”
Victor stared at him.
“Conrad’s.”
Harlan walked to the window.
No one spoke for several seconds.
I watched his reflection in the glass.
He looked less angry than betrayed.
There was a difference.
Anger moved.
Betrayal froze.
“You said Elsie called someone ‘uncle,’” I said.
“Yes.”
“How many uncles does she have?”
“One.”
Nobody needed to say Conrad’s name.
Harlan’s phone rang.
The caller was the hospital.
He answered immediately.
“What happened?”
His face changed as he listened.
“I’m coming.”
He ended the call.
“What?” I asked.
“Elsie is awake.”
“That’s good.”
“She’s asking for you.”
My resistance lasted approximately three seconds.
“I’m coming.”
At the hospital, Elsie looked impossibly small beneath the blankets.
Her cheeks had regained some color.
The bunny sat beneath her arm.
When she saw me, she smiled.
“You came.”
“Of course.”
Harlan stayed by the doorway.
I sat beside her.
“How are you feeling?”
“Tired.”
“That makes two of us.”
She touched my sleeve.
“Daddy said you stayed.”
“I did.”
“Were you scared?”
“A little.”
“Daddy scares people.”
Behind me, Harlan cleared his throat.
I looked at Elsie seriously.
“Your father is trying very hard to appear friendly.”
She giggled.
The sound changed the room.
Harlan looked away for a second.
I understood why.
He was hiding emotion.
Then Elsie pulled the stuffed bunny toward me.
“Bun knows secrets.”
My smile faded.
“What secrets?”
She looked toward her father.
Then back at me.
“Uncle Connie gave me Bun.”
Harlan stepped forward.
“When?”
“My birthday.”
“That bunny came from me,” he said.
Elsie shook her head.
“No. Uncle Connie said yours got dirty.”
Harlan took the toy.
He examined it carefully.
The handwritten number.
The stitching.
Then he felt something inside the left paw.
“Victor.”
Victor produced a small pocket tool.
He opened a few stitches.
Something metallic fell onto the blanket.
Tiny.
Flat.
Black.
Victor picked it up.
His face went pale.
“What is it?” I asked.
“A tracking device.”
Harlan’s eyes darkened.
“Active?”
Victor checked.
“Yes.”
Elsie watched us.
I forced my expression to stay calm.
“That just helps grown-ups find things,” I told her.
“Like treasure?”
“Exactly.”
Harlan looked at me with gratitude.
Then Elsie said, “Uncle Connie said it would help him find me if Daddy got mean.”
Harlan closed his eyes.
Only for a moment.
“Did Uncle Connie take you from home last night?”
Elsie looked confused.
“No.”
“Who did?”
“A lady.”
“What lady?”
“The one who smells like oranges.”
Harlan and Victor exchanged a look.
“Who?” I asked.
Harlan answered.
“My house manager.”
“Name?”
“Judith Crane.”
“Where is she?”
Victor was already reaching for his phone.
“At the house.”
Harlan went still.
“Elsie, sweetheart, did Judith say where you were going?”
The girl nodded.
“She said Daddy wanted me to play a secret game.”
“What game?”
“Hide until Uncle Connie came.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Harlan turned toward Victor.
“Lock down the house. No one leaves.”
Victor called his team.
I looked at Elsie.
“Sweetheart, what happened in the garage?”
Her fingers tightened around the blanket.
“Judith got mad.”
“Why?”
“I wanted Daddy.”
“And then?”
“She put me on the bench.”
“Did she give you your medicine?”
Elsie shook her head.
“I asked.”
Harlan’s hand curled into a fist.
“She said Daddy would come if I was good.”
His voice was barely audible.
“And did anyone else come?”
Elsie thought.
“A man.”
“What man?”
“He had Neal’s hat.”
My breath stopped.
“Neal?”
She shrugged.
“I don’t know.”
I took out my phone and showed her a photograph of Neal from the restaurant website.
Elsie’s eyes widened.
“That’s him.”
Harlan turned away.
Victor’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed immediately.
“What?”
We all watched him.
“When?”
He looked at Harlan.
“The house team lost contact with Judith.”
“Meaning?”
“She’s gone.”
Harlan’s voice became dangerously calm.
“How?”
“We don’t know.”
Victor listened again.
Then lowered the phone.
“And someone accessed your private office twenty minutes ago.”
Harlan stared at him.
“What was taken?”
“We’re checking.”
Elsie tugged my sleeve.
“Mara?”
“Yes?”
“Uncle Connie told Judith about Daddy’s red book.”
Harlan froze.
“What red book?”
Elsie pointed toward him.
“The one Grandpa hid.”
Harlan crouched beside the bed.
“Elsie, when did Conrad say that?”
“At Christmas.”
“What exactly did he say?”
She frowned, trying to remember.
“He said if he found Grandpa’s red book, Daddy wouldn’t be boss anymore.”
Harlan stood so quickly the chair shifted.
Victor’s phone rang again.
He answered.
Listened.
Then looked at Harlan.
“The safe in your office is open.”
“What’s missing?”
Victor swallowed.
“Your father’s private ledger.”
Harlan didn’t move.
“What was in it?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“Something my brother has been trying to find for eleven years.”
“And now he has it?”
“No.”
Victor slowly lifted his phone.
“We checked the safe camera.”
He turned the screen toward us.
The footage showed Judith entering Harlan’s office.
She opened the safe.
Reached inside.
Then stopped.
The safe was empty.
A piece of red paper lay on the shelf.
Victor zoomed in.
Three words had been written across it.
ASK THE WAITRESS.
May you like
Every face in the room turned toward me.
And I had absolutely no idea why.
