Chapter 11--The USB
1019 Words
*CHAPTER 11: THE USB*
---
*1:05 PM. July 3. Outside the Café*
The bell behind me was still ringing.
I didn’t look back.
The USB in my pocket felt heavier than the key.
Heavier than the receipt.
Heavier than my father’s name on that termination letter.
`Give it to someone you trust. Not Peterson.`
Anderson’s voice was in my head.
`Me. For now.`
For now wasn’t good enough.
I kept walking.
Two blocks.
Three.
Until the café was out of sight.
Then I stopped in an alley and pulled the USB out.
Small.
Black.
No label.
What was on it?
Emails?
Bank records?
Video?
My thumb hovered over it.
I wanted to plug it in right there.
But not on my phone.
Not on café wifi.
Not anywhere they could trace.
I put it back.
Home first.
---
*2:30 PM. Home*
Mom was at work.
The apartment was quiet.
I locked my bedroom door.
Pulled out my old laptop.
The one Dad gave me for school.
No accounts linked to the café.
No Peterson wifi.
I sat on the floor.
USB in.
It asked for a password.
Of course it did.
The screen blinked: `Enter passphrase`
My chest tightened.
`Linda`
`Dad`
`Marcus`
`Booth7`
`B7`
Nothing worked.
I stared at the blinking cursor.
Then I saw it.
Etched on the back of the USB, tiny: `11-14`
The date on the photo.
`Thurs. 11/14/2019`
I typed: `11142019`
Click.
The folder opened.
---
*2:34 PM. What Was Inside*
Three files.
1. `AUDIT_REPORT_FINAL.pdf`
2. `THURSDAY_DROPS.xlsx`
3. `VOICEMO_120119.m4a`
My hands were cold.
I opened the PDF first.
`PETERSON HOLDINGS - INTERNAL AUDIT`
`Prepared by: Marcus Adeleke, External Auditor`
`Date: 11/28/2019`
Page after page.
Bank transfers.
Shell companies.
Names I didn’t know.
Amounts with too many zeros.
And there, on page 7:
`Booth 7 - Weekly Cash Drop. Approx 45,000.`
`Handled by: V. Peterson, P. Peterson`
`Purpose: Off-book vendor payments`
Victor.
And Peterson.
My father had proof.
I closed the PDF.
Opened the Excel.
Dates.
Every Thursday for 6 years.
Times.
Amounts.
Initials.
`11/14/2019 - 14:40 - M.A. - Received`
That was the day of the photo.
The last Thursday he came.
My father took the money.
And didn’t file it.
He hid it instead.
Then the audio file.
I pressed play.
Static.
Then my father’s voice.
Tired.
Low.
“Linda, if you’re hearing this, I couldn’t finish it. Peterson found out. He terminated me. Said it was breach. It’s not. I found the truth. The money goes to...”
A door slammed in the background.
Footsteps.
The recording cut.
That was it.
Two weeks before he died.
I stopped the audio.
And sat there.
The room was too quiet.
---
*3:10 PM. The Call*
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I almost didn’t answer.
Then it buzzed again.
I picked up.
“Linda.”
Anderson.
“How did you get this number?” I asked.
“I have resources,” he said. “Did you open it?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
“Don’t keep it at home,” he said. “Don’t keep it on you. Peterson will search.”
“How do you know he will?”
“Because he already knows you have it,” Anderson said. “That’s why the café was empty today.”
My stomach dropped.
“You set me up.”
“No,” he said quickly. “I gave you the choice. You took it.”
“Where am I supposed to put it?”
“Somewhere safe. Somewhere he won’t look.”
“Like where?”
There was a pause.
“Your mother’s jewelry box,” he said. “The one with the broken latch. Under the velvet.”
My blood went cold.
“How do you know about that?”
“I knew your father, Linda,” he said softly. “He told me about the box. Said if anything happened, that’s where he’d hide things.”
The line went dead.
---
*4:00 PM. Mom’s Room*
The jewelry box was on her dresser.
Old.
Wooden.
Latch broken since I was 12.
I opened it.
Earrings.
A necklace.
Velvet lining.
I lifted the velvet.
There was a slit underneath.
And inside the slit, a folded piece of paper.
Not from me.
From Dad.
`For L.`
`If you find this, you already found the USB.`
`I’m proud of you.`
`Don’t be scared.`
`— D`
I pressed the paper to my chest.
Then I put the USB under the velvet.
Pushed the lining back down.
Closed the box.
---
*6:20 PM. Shift*
I went back to work.
Like nothing happened.
Ariel was at the pass.
She looked at me longer than usual.
“Where were you?” she asked.
“Break.”
“Long break.”
“I had things to do.”
She didn’t push.
But her eyes went to my pocket.
To where the key used to be.
It was gone now.
Peterson didn’t come down.
Victor didn’t either.
The floor was normal.
Too normal.
---
*9:45 PM. After Shift*
I was walking home when a car slowed beside me.
Black.
Tinted windows.
It stopped.
The window rolled down.
Victor.
“Linda,” he said. “Get in. Mr. Peterson wants to talk.”
I kept walking.
“It’s about your father,” he added.
I stopped.
“Is he alive?” I asked.
Victor didn’t answer.
“Then I’m not getting in,” I said.
I crossed the street.
The car didn’t follow.
But I felt it watching me all the way home.
---
*11:10 PM. My Room*
I lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
The USB was safe.
The evidence was real.
My father wasn’t just an accountant.
He was trying to stop them.
And now they knew I had it.
My phone lit up.
Unknown number.
`We need to talk. Alone. Booth 7. 12 PM tomorrow.`
No name.
But I knew.
I deleted it.
Then I whispered to the dark:
“I’m not scared.”
Because I wasn’t.
Not anymore.
I had the USB.
I had his note.
I had the truth.
And tomorrow, I was going back to Booth 7.
- Writer
