Chương 10
He was released under conditions that prohibited contact with Mia and restricted his travel.
Cross Meridian’s stock dropped eleven percent.
A lender delayed renewal of a major credit facility. Two municipal clients paused contract negotiations. Employees received an email assuring them payroll would continue without interruption.
That evening, a woman named Tara Jenkins called Daniel from the company’s Ohio division. He had met her twice. She managed accounts payable for three regional offices.
“My team wants to know if we should start looking for other jobs,” she said.
Daniel sat on the floor beside the couch while Mia slept.
“I’m not in a position to advise you.”
“You were the CFO last week.”
“Last week is gone.”
“Is the company solvent?”
He closed his eyes. “I can’t discuss internal financial information.”
“Can you tell me whether my paycheck is coming Friday?”
“I believe so.”
“You believe?”
“Tara, I don’t have system access.”
She was quiet.
“My husband was laid off in February,” she said. “We’re on my insurance. My son’s insulin is four hundred dollars a month before the deductible does whatever it does. Everyone online is talking about rich people protecting each other, but we’re the ones refreshing our bank accounts.”
Daniel looked at the carpet fibers between his fingers.
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t need sorry. I need to know whether to apply at Hensley.”
“Yes,” he said.
“Yes, apply?”
“Yes. Update your résumé. Apply. Don’t resign unless you have something.”
“Is it that bad?”
“I don’t know. Protect your family.”
The words sounded like Evelyn’s until the intention reached him.
Tara exhaled. “Okay.”
After the call, Daniel remained on the floor.
Mia opened her eyes.
“Is her son sick?”
“He has diabetes.”
“Will he get medicine?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know.”
“No.”
She shifted carefully beneath the blanket. “Is the company falling?”
“It’s having trouble.”
“Because Uncle Julian crashed?”
“Because people covered it up. Because the company became too dependent on our family. Because lenders get nervous. Because clients don’t like uncertainty. There are a lot of reasons.”
“Because I told?”
He moved closer to the couch.
“No.”
“If I didn’t tell, they’d still have jobs.”
“For a while.”
“That’s the same.”
“It isn’t.”
“How?”
“Because then the company would still be run by people willing to hurt you to protect themselves. Something else would happen. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not to you. But it would.”
Mia stared at the ceiling.
“Do people lose jobs when someone gets arrested?”
“Sometimes.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No.”
“Can we give them money?”
Daniel almost smiled. “We don’t have eight thousand people money.”
“Grandma does.”
“Some of what looks like her money belongs to trusts, the company, foundations, banks. Wealth gets complicated.”
“She makes it complicated so no one can take it.”
He looked at his daughter.
“Possibly.”
Mia turned her face toward him. “I don’t want people to hate me.”
“They don’t know you.”
“They hate the kid in the article.”
“Some people are angry and scared. They’re looking for someone they can see.”
“They can see Grandma.”
“She has lawyers.”
“That isn’t fair either.”
“No.”
Mia reached for his hand. She had not done that since discovering the voice message.
Daniel placed his palm beneath hers.
Her fingers rested there without closing.
The district attorney assigned a victim advocate named Simone Price to work with Mia. Simone did not speak in the bright voice adults sometimes used with injured children. She wore navy dresses, carried peppermint gum, and asked permission before moving a chair closer.
She explained that Mia might have to testify.
“Against Grandma?” Mia asked.
“Possibly.”
“And Uncle Julian?”
“Possibly.”
“In court?”
“There may be hearings. There may be a trial. Some cases resolve before that.”
“What does resolve mean?”
“Someone may admit to some or all of what they did, or both sides may agree on what charges will continue.”
“So they make a deal.”
“Sometimes.”
“Do I get to decide?”
“No.”
Mia looked offended.
“Your wishes matter,” Simone said. “But prosecutors make charging decisions. Judges make other decisions. Your job is not to control the case.”
“What is my job?”
“To tell the truth when you’re asked and to say when you don’t remember.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s enough.”
Daniel sat by the window.
Simone turned toward him. “You may also be a witness.”
“I know.”
“Your attorney should be involved.”
Daniel had hired an attorney, Asha Benton, using money borrowed from Rebecca. Asha was a former federal prosecutor with a small office above a pharmacy. During their first meeting, she told him that honesty would not erase his delay, but continued dishonesty would make it worse.
She also told him not to speak with company lawyers without her.
Martin Hale sent three messages requesting a meeting.
Daniel ignored all three.
Mia began physical therapy. The first session made her cry from frustration rather than pain. She could not lift her left arm high enough to touch a paper star taped to the wall.
The therapist lowered the star.
“That’s cheating,” Mia said.
“It’s adjusting.”
“It’s lower.”
“Yes.”
“So it’s easier.”
“Yes.”
“I want the other one.”
“You’re not ready for the other one.”
Mia kicked the base of the chair with her heel.
Daniel started to correct her, then stopped.
The therapist waited.
Mia tried again.
Afterward, in the elevator, she said, “I hate when people make things easier.”
“You hate when they say easier means the same.”
She looked at him. “Yes.”
“I do too.”
“No, you don’t.”
He knew she was thinking about the hidden message.
“You’re right,” he said.
School sent assignments through an online portal. Mia completed some and ignored others. Her classmates recorded a video wishing her well. Several children waved awkwardly. One boy held up a sign that said COME BACK SOON, MIA. Another whispered something off camera and laughed.
Mia watched the video twice.
“Do they know?”
“Probably some of it,” Daniel said.
“About Grandma?”
“Yes.”
“About the recording?”
“Yes.”
“Do they think I’m weird?”
May you like
“Some might.”
“What do you think?”
