Chương 8
Kayla was watching me.
Not like she needed saving.
Like she needed one familiar person in a night that had suddenly become much larger than her.
“All right,” I said.
Mercer stopped me before we moved toward the employee entrance.
“Morgan.”
I turned.
“We’re going to need a formal interview later today.”
“Fine.”
“Not now.”
“Good.”
“And your car stays until we finish processing the area.”
“I figured.”
“I’ll get someone to drive you.”
“No.”
He sighed.
“I knew you were going to say that.”
“I’ll call a rideshare.”
“At three in the morning after four men just targeted you because someone gave out your schedule?”
“I can take care of myself.”
His expression changed.
There was no impatience in it now.
Only sadness.
“That sentence has cost you enough.”
I looked away.
He had no right to say it.
He also had every right.
“I’m not going with you,” I said.
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“You were going to.”
“I was going to offer.”
“That’s worse.”
He almost smiled.
“There she is.”
The words made my chest ache unexpectedly.
I tightened my grip on the thermos.
“Don’t.”
His smile disappeared.
“Okay.”
Pamela and Kayla were waiting by the doors.
Teresa had somehow acquired a packet of peanut butter crackers and was eating them with the aggressive concentration of a person determined not to cry.
She held the packet toward me.
I took one.
The cracker broke in half before I got it out.
Teresa looked at the pieces.
“Strong hands.”
“Cheap crackers.”
“Sure.”
Inside, the store was bright and mostly empty.
An employee pushed a pallet of paper towels across an aisle as though nothing extraordinary had happened.
A floor machine hummed near produce.
The normalcy felt indecent.
Pamela led us to a small office near personnel.
Kayla sat beside me.
Teresa stayed outside because Pamela said she might need to give her own statement separately.
Kayla stared at a motivational poster about teamwork taped crookedly to the wall.
“I hate that thing,” she said.
Pamela looked at it.
“So do I.”
That broke something small between them.
Not trust exactly.
But the beginning of less fear.
Pamela took out a notebook.
“I’m not recording this because corporate legal has specific procedures for formal interviews, and I don’t want you feeling like you have to do that right now.”
Kayla nodded.
“I mostly need to know whether there were earlier incidents involving Derek that weren’t included in Morgan’s complaint.”
Kayla rubbed her thumbnail along a seam in her jeans.
“Yes.”
I turned toward her.
She did not look at me.
“How many?”
Pamela asked.
Kayla swallowed.
“Five.”
The number settled heavily in the small office.
Pamela lowered her pen.
“Five incidents?”
“Maybe six.”
I felt anger rise again.
Not at Kayla.
At every person who had allowed her to count that high.
“Start wherever you can,” Pamela said.
Kayla stared at the floor.
“The first time he asked for my number.”
Pamela waited.
“He kept asking after I said no.”
“What happened after that?”
“He said I was making it weird.”
Her voice had become very quiet.
“The next week he brought me a coffee.”
“Had you asked him to?”
“No.”
“He knew what you drank?”
Kayla nodded.
“He asked one of the guys in receiving.”
I felt the room narrow.
“What else?”
Pamela asked.
“He waited by my car once.”
My head snapped toward her.
“When?”
“About a month ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
The question came out harsher than I intended.
Kayla recoiled slightly.
I closed my eyes.
“Sorry.”
She shook her head.
“No, it’s okay.”
“It isn’t.”
I forced my hands flat against my knees.
“You didn’t owe me that.”
Kayla looked at me.
“I thought you’d do exactly what you did.”
“What?”
“Make it serious.”
I stared at her.
She looked embarrassed.
“I was scared I’d lose hours if I caused trouble.”
Pamela stopped writing.
“Did anyone tell you that?”
Kayla hesitated.
Then she said, “Calvin did.”
The office went silent.
Pamela’s face changed again.
Not surprise this time.
Recognition.
“What exactly did he say?”
Kayla looked at the closed door.
“He said vendors complain when employees make accusations.”
Pamela waited.
“He said companies protect relationships that bring in money.”
My jaw tightened.
“And then?”
Kayla’s eyes filled but she did not cry.
“He asked me if I could afford to be difficult.”
Pamela set the pen down.
She did it carefully, as if the pen had become dangerous.
“Did he say those exact words?”
Kayla nodded.
“He said, ‘Can you afford to be difficult right now?’”
Pamela looked toward me.
I could see the calculation in her face.
Not disbelief.
Scope.
“How long ago?”
“Two weeks.”
“Before Morgan reported Derek?”
“Yes.”
“Did Calvin change your schedule after that conversation?”
Kayla hesitated.
“Yes.”
My stomach tightened.
Pamela picked up the pen again.
“How?”
“He took me off receiving for three shifts.”
“Did he explain why?”
“He said I was making vendor interactions awkward.”
I stared at the wall.
The crooked teamwork poster suddenly seemed insulting enough to tear down.
Pamela said, “Did you lose hours?”
“Six.”
“Were they restored later?”
“No.”
Pamela wrote something.
Her hand was steady now.
Mine was not.
I stood.
Kayla looked up quickly.
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere.”
I crossed to the little sink in the corner and filled a paper cup with water.
The water tasted faintly metallic.
I drank all of it anyway.
Pamela waited.
She was good at that.
Not warm.
Not cold.
Just patient enough that silence became useful.
When I sat again, Kayla had her hands folded between her knees.
“What happened after he moved your shifts?”
Pamela asked.
Kayla stared at her shoelaces.
“Derek started showing up when I worked late.”
“How often?”
“Three times that I noticed.”
“Did you tell Calvin?”
“The first time.”
“And?”
“He said schedules aren’t private.”
Pamela’s pen stopped.
“They are not public information.”
May you like
“He said vendors know when deliveries happen.”
“That is not the same thing.”
