Chapter 12-- The confrontation
1085 Words
*CHAPTER 12: THE CONFRONTATION*
---
*11:55 AM. July 4. Outside the Café*
The message was still on my phone.
`We need to talk. Alone. Booth 7. 12 PM tomorrow.`
No name.
But I knew who sent it.
My hands were steady.
That scared me more than shaking would.
The USB was safe at home.
Under Mom’s velvet.
With Dad’s note.
I only had the key.
And the receipt.
And the truth that I knew.
I pushed the door.
The bell rang.
---
*12:00 PM. Café Entrance*
It was empty again.
Not “slow.”
Empty.
Maya was gone.
Ariel was gone.
Tunde was gone.
Only Victor at the register.
Arms crossed.
And in Booth 7: Peterson.
Grey suit.
Coffee untouched.
Eyes on the table like he’d been waiting all morning.
He didn’t look up when I sat down.
“Linda,” he said.
“Mr. Peterson.”
Silence.
Then he slid a folder across the table.
Not black like Anderson’s.
White.
Company logo.
“Open it,” he said.
I did.
Inside: My employment contract.
Highlighted in yellow.
`Section 8.2: Company Property`
`All documents, devices, and data obtained during employment remain property of Peterson Holdings.`
He tapped it once.
“You took something that belongs to me,” he said. Soft. “Give it back.”
My throat was dry.
“I don’t have anything,” I said.
Peterson smiled.
It didn’t reach his eyes.
“Let’s not do this,” he said. “The USB. The report. My father’s audit.”
The words hit like a slap.
`My father’s audit.`
He knew.
“How did you—”
“Because I’ve been watching you since you applied,” he cut in. “Booth 7. The questions. Anderson.”
He leaned forward.
“Where is it, Linda?”
---
*12:06 PM. The Lie*
I met his eyes.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The smile dropped.
Victor moved from the register.
Stood behind me.
“Don’t lie to me,” Peterson said. “Not in this booth.
Your father sat right here.
Every Thursday.
He lied to me too.”
My chest tightened.
“What did he lie about?”
“About the money,” Peterson said. “About where it was going. About who he was sending it to.”
He pushed another paper across.
A bank statement.
`Marcus Adeleke`
`Deposit: 50,000`
`Date: 11/14/2019`
The day of the photo.
“He was taking it,” Peterson said. “Not reporting it.
Stealing from the company.
Do you understand?”
My father.
A thief?
“No,” I said. “He wouldn’t.”
“He did,” Peterson said. “And then he disappeared before we could deal with it.”
`Deal with it.`
The way he said it made my stomach turn.
---
*12:12 PM. The Threat*
Peterson stood.
He walked around the table.
Stopped next to me.
Victor didn’t move.
“I’m going to ask you one more time,” Peterson said quietly.
“Where is the USB?”
I looked up at him.
“I don’t have it.”
He stared at me for a long time.
Then he sighed.
Like I was disappointing him.
“Okay,” he said. “Then we do this the hard way.”
He snapped his fingers.
Victor grabbed my arm.
Not hard.
Just enough.
“Let go of me,” I said.
“Search her,” Peterson told him.
Victor’s hands went to my pockets.
Jacket.
Pants.
Bag.
Nothing.
Because there was nothing.
He stepped back.
Peterson’s face went blank.
“Interesting,” he said. “You’re either very brave, or very stupid.”
I stood up.
Shook Victor’s hand off.
“I’m leaving.”
“You’re not done here,” Peterson said.
“Yes I am,” I said. “Because if you had proof, you wouldn’t be asking.
And if you hurt me, the USB goes public.”
Bluff.
But his jaw ticked.
“You think you can threaten me?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “I think my father did.”
---
*12:18 PM. Anderson Appears*
The staff door opened.
Anderson.
Grey suit.
Hands in pockets.
Like he owned the place.
“Problem here?” he asked.
Peterson turned.
“Get out. This is company business.”
Anderson ignored him.
Looked at me.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s go.”
Peterson stepped between us.
“She’s not going anywhere,” he said.
Anderson smiled.
Cold.
“She is,” he said. “Unless you want me to call the police.
And the press.
And tell them about Booth 7.”
The room went still.
Peterson’s eyes flicked to Victor.
To me.
Back to Anderson.
“You have no idea what you’re dealing with,” Peterson said.
“Neither do you,” Anderson replied. “That’s why you’re scared.”
Peterson didn’t answer.
He just nodded once.
“Fine,” he said. “Go.
But Linda?
We’re not done.”
---
*12:25 PM. Outside*
Anderson and I walked two blocks in silence.
Then he stopped.
“You lied to him,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Good,” he said. “Now we need to move the USB.”
“My home isn’t safe,” I said.
“No,” he agreed. “It isn’t.”
He pulled out a card.
Plain.
No name.
Just an address.
“Safety deposit box,” he said. “Bank downtown.
Under your father’s name.
He set it up years ago.
You’re the beneficiary.”
I took the card.
“How do you know all this?”
“Because I was his partner,” Anderson said.
“And I failed him.”
Something in his voice broke.
“J?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“Yes,” he said. “J is me.
James Anderson.”
---
*1:00 PM. My Room*
I sat on my bed.
The card in one hand.
My phone in the other.
New message.
Unknown number.
`You did well today.`
`But he’ll come for your mother next.`
My blood went cold.
I deleted it.
Then I looked at the card.
Bank.
Downtown.
Box 47.
Tomorrow.
I whispered to the empty room:
“They’re not getting it.”
Because they weren’t.
Not the USB.
Not me.
Not Mom.
Peterson wanted the truth buried.
Anderson wanted it out.
And me?
I wanted to know why my father died.
And I was done being the girl in Booth 7 who waited.
- Writer
