Chương 10
Todd said, “That system throws errors constantly.”
“That isn’t a denial.”
“I never intended for your medicine to spill.”
“You intended to take it.”
“I intended to verify merchandise.”
“You called me a thief.”
“I said the alarm indicated unpaid product.”
“You shouted it across the store.”
“You were walking away.”
“After paying.”
His breath came through the line. “You have no idea what that store has been like.”
“Pamela said something similar.”
“Pamela approved the recovery targets.”
“What targets?”
Another silence.
Todd lowered his voice. “They tell you to reduce shrink, but they don’t give you security staff. They cut payroll. They put self-checkout everywhere. Then district management comes in with charts and asks why your numbers are bad. You tell employees to watch people, and if they don’t stop enough, you’re failing. If they stop the wrong person, you’re failing.”
“So you made the alarm go off.”
“I tested the tag.”
“After I paid.”
“I thought it hadn’t deactivated properly.”
“The recording says reactivated.”
“That’s how the system labels it.”
“Why did you cover your badge?”
He inhaled sharply.
Leah waited.
“I panicked,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because your friend was threatening me.”
“He played your employee number.”
“I didn’t know what he had.”
“You knew enough to hide it.”
Todd’s restraint began to break. “That man came at me like he wanted an excuse.”
“He stood between us.”
“He slammed the scanner.”
“You ripped my medicine away.”
“I said I made a mistake.”
The anger in his voice returned so naturally that Leah understood the frightened version of him had not replaced the other one. It had only needed something.
“Did you put lipstick under Elena Vega’s chair?” she asked.
Todd stopped breathing for a moment.
“Who?”
“You know who.”
“People are feeding you stories because they want money.”
“She paid you seventy-five dollars.”
“She paid the company.”
“You wrote the report.”
“I wrote hundreds of reports.”
“How many were lies?”
“None.”
“You just said you made a mistake.”
“That doesn’t make me a liar.”
“No,” Leah said. “Calling me a thief did that.”
She ended the call.
Only afterward did she realize she had not recorded it.
Her hands shook so badly she had to place the phone on the floor.
Miriam was not pleased.
“You should not have engaged with him.”
“He called me.”
“You should have hung up.”
“He mentioned recovery targets.”
“Did he use that exact phrase?”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone hear the call?”
“No.”
“Do you have a recording?”
“No.”
“Did he admit reactivating the tag?”
“He said he tested it.”
“That is useful, but disputable.”
Leah stared at the settlement agreement.
Miriam’s tone softened. “This is how these cases become consuming. Every conversation feels like the missing proof. Every person becomes a possible witness. You begin living for the next document.”
“What do I do?”
“You write down everything you remember from the call. Exact words where possible. Then you decide whether the settlement buys something you need more than the case does.”
Leah wrote for an hour.
Near midnight, someone knocked.
She looked through the peephole and saw Marcus standing one step below the landing, where he had stood when she felt sick after the store.
She opened the door but did not move aside.
“Marisol called Odessa,” he said.
“Why does Marisol know Odessa?”
“I gave Odessa her number.”
“You’re creating a committee.”
“I was told committees were safer than me making decisions.”
Despite herself, Leah laughed.
Marcus held up a paper bag from the bakery beneath Miriam’s office. “I bought six rolls. They gave me twelve.”
“That’s not why you’re here.”
“No.”
She moved aside.
At the kitchen table, she told him about Todd’s call. Marcus listened without interrupting, though his fingers slowly crushed the bakery bag between them.
When she finished, he said, “I’m going to his house.”
“No.”
“I’m not going to touch him.”
“No.”
“I want him to know he can’t call you.”
“Miriam will tell his lawyer.”
“He doesn’t respect lawyers.”
“He’s afraid of losing his job. That’s why he called.”
Marcus looked at the settlement agreement. “You’re considering it.”
“Yes.”
“He admitted the targets.”
“To me. On an unrecorded call.”
“You believe him.”
“I believe he believes it.”
“That isn’t the same.”
“No.”
Marcus placed the flattened paper bag on the table. “Your father took money once.”
Leah looked up.
The words had not been planned. Marcus could tell because they frightened him as soon as he heard them.
“What money?”
“After an accident at the shop where we worked before I opened mine.”
“What accident?”
“A lift failed. Motorcycle came down on a mechanic named Paul Weller. Broke his pelvis, crushed part of his left hand.”
“Was Dad responsible?”
“No. The lift had been reported twice.”
“Then why did he get money?”
“The owner offered everybody on shift severance if we signed statements saying Paul bypassed the safety lock.”
Leah’s face changed. “Did you sign?”
“No.”
“Dad did?”
“Yes.”
Marcus looked at his hands. “Your mother was sick. Insurance had denied part of her treatment. He needed eight thousand dollars.”
“Did Paul lose his case?”
“He settled for less than he should have. Three statements said he caused it.”
“Dad lied.”
“Yes.”
The refrigerator clicked on behind them.
Leah stood and walked to the window. Outside, a delivery driver carried pizza toward the ground-floor apartment.
“Why are you telling me now?”
“Because I spent years deciding your father took the money because he was weak. Then I spent more years deciding I was better because I didn’t.”
“Were you?”
“No. I had no sick wife. No kid. I slept in the back of the shop. Saying no cost me a job I already hated.”
Leah pressed two fingers against the glass.
“Daniel paid Paul later,” Marcus said. “A little every month. Cash. Paul never knew where it came from.”
“That fixes it?”
“No.”
“Why did Dad tell you?”
“He didn’t. I found the envelopes after he died.”
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“Where?”
“In his garage. He left instructions.”
