Chapter 14--The choice
892 Words
*CHAPTER 14: THE CHOICE*
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*3:15 PM. City Library. Third Floor*
The air didn’t move.
Black USB in my left hand.
Red USB in my right.
Peterson in front of me.
Anderson in front of _him_.
Victor at the end of the aisle like a wall.
My phone was still buzzing in my bag.
`We know where your mom is.`
“Give me the USBs, Linda,” Peterson said again.
Calm. Like he was ordering coffee.
Anderson didn’t turn around.
“Don’t,” he said quietly. Just for me.
“Both of them are evidence. If he gets them, Parker dies for nothing.”
“And if I don’t give him anything, Mom dies,” I whispered back.
Anderson’s jaw tightened.
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*3:16 PM. The Bluff*
I lifted both USBs.
“Which one do you want first, Mr. Peterson?”
His eyes flicked to the black one.
The one from Booth 7.
The audit. The proof.
“Anderson?” I asked.
His eyes went to the red one.
The account numbers. The Geneva money.
Peterson smiled.
“You’re stalling.”
“No,” I said. “I’m choosing.”
I took one step back.
The librarian’s desk was 10 feet away.
There were cameras there.
“You want the black one?” I asked Peterson.
“Then you have to let my mom go.”
“You’re in no position to bargain,” Victor said.
“I am,” I said. “Because if I drop both of these right now,
you’ll never know which one has what.
And the cops will have them in 5 minutes.”
Bluff.
But Peterson’s face twitched.
---
*3:18 PM. Anderson Moves*
Anderson shifted.
Just an inch.
Enough for me to see his hand.
He was holding something small.
A phone.
Recording.
“Peterson,” Anderson said. “You’re on library property.
You threatened a minor’s mother.
You just confessed to wanting stolen company property.
Drop it.”
Peterson laughed.
“You think anyone here will help her?”
No one looked up.
“Fine,” Peterson said.
He held out his hand to me.
“The black one. Now.
And I’ll make a call. Your mom goes home in an hour.”
An hour.
That’s all I had.
I looked at the black USB.
Parker’s audit.
6 years of proof.
Then at the red one.
The money trail.
The names.
Parker’s letter: `Test him.`
Was Anderson testing me?
Or was Peterson?
---
*3:20 PM. The Drop*
I made the choice.
I threw the *black USB* hard.
Not to Peterson.
Past him.
Toward the librarian’s desk.
It skidded across the floor.
Everyone moved.
Victor lunged.
Peterson cursed.
Anderson grabbed my wrist.
“Run,” he hissed.
We bolted.
Behind us: chairs scraping, Victor yelling `Get it!`
We hit the stairs.
Two at a time.
Out the emergency exit.
Into the alley.
Rain.
---
*3:25 PM. The Alley*
We stopped behind a dumpster, breathing hard.
I still had the red USB in my fist.
My knuckles were white.
“Why the black one?” Anderson asked.
Pissed.
“You just gave him the audit.”
“No,” I said. “I gave him an empty one.”
I opened my palm.
The red USB had red tape.
The black USB in my pocket was blank.
I’d switched them in the bank bathroom.
Anderson stared.
Then he started laughing.
Quiet. Disbelieving.
“Parker’s daughter,” he said. “Smart.”
My phone buzzed.
New text.
Unknown number.
`Good girl. Mom is home.`
A photo attached.
Mom.
On our couch.
Drinking tea.
Looking scared but alive.
I sagged against the wall.
Relief hit so hard my legs shook.
“She’s okay,” I whispered.
Anderson nodded.
“Because you played it right.”
---
*3:35 PM. What We Have Now*
We walked.
No cabs.
No buses.
Just walking.
“The red USB,” Anderson said. “It has everything.
Geneva accounts. 14.7 million.
The names of who Peterson answers to.”
“And the black one?” I asked.
“Was empty,” he finished. “Good.”
He stopped.
“Linda, listen to me.
We have 48 hours before Peterson figures out it’s blank.
In 48 hours, we need to get this to the press.
And to the police.”
“And if they get to us first?”
“Then Parker really died for nothing.”
I looked at the red USB.
At Parker’s handwriting on the tape: `PRESS`
“Okay,” I said. “48 hours.”
---
*8:00 PM. My Room*
Mom was home.
She wouldn’t say where she’d been.
Just hugged me for 10 minutes and made soup.
I was in my room now.
Door locked.
Red USB on the desk.
My phone lit up.
New message.
Unknown number.
`You have something that doesn’t belong to you.`
`Return it by tomorrow 12 PM. Booth 7.`
`Or the next photo won’t be of your mom drinking tea.`
Another photo.
Me.
Coming out of the library.
Timestamp: 3:17 PM.
They were watching.
I picked up the red USB.
Parker’s voice in my head:
`Be smart. Be loud. Don’t let them bury me.`
Tomorrow.
12 PM.
Booth 7.
It was a trap.
And I was going to walk into it.
Because this time, I wasn’t the girl who waited.
I was the girl with the proof.
- Writer
