Chapter 15-- Booth 7
1052 Words
*CHAPTER 15: BOOTH 7*
---
*11:58 AM. July 6. Outside the Café*
The message was burned into my head.
`Return it by tomorrow 12 PM. Booth 7.`
`Or the next photo won’t be of your mom drinking tea.`
Mom was locked in her room with the doors double-bolted.
Anderson was 2 blocks away.
“Don’t go in,” he’d said. “It’s a trap.”
“I know,” I’d said. “That’s why I’m going.”
In my pocket: the red USB.
In my bag: a decoy. An old flash drive with junk files.
If they wanted proof, they could have it.
Just not the real one.
The bell rang.
---
*12:00 PM. Booth 7*
It was empty again.
Not slow.
Staged.
Peterson sat alone.
Two coffees on the table.
One for him.
One for me.
Victor stood by the door.
No one else.
“Ms.,” he said.
“Sit.”[LastName]
I sat.
He pushed the second coffee toward me.
“I ordered your usual. Black. No sugar.
Like your father.”
My stomach turned.
“Where’s the USB?” he asked.
I pulled the decoy from my bag.
Set it on the table.
Peterson didn’t touch it.
“Is this it?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Open it.”
I plugged it into his laptop.
He had one on the table.
Folder after folder of photos, music, nothing.
Peterson watched.
His face didn’t change.
He closed the laptop.
“You think I’m stupid,” he said.
“No,” I said. “I think you’re desperate.”
Victor moved.
Grabbed my bag.
Dumped it on the table.
Phone.
Wallet.
Keys.
No red USB.
Peterson leaned forward.
“Where is it, Linda?”
---
*12:06 PM. The Truth*
“I don’t have it,” I said.
“Liar.”
“Then search me.”
Victor did.
Pockets.
Jacket.
Shoes.
Nothing.
Peterson stood.
Walked around the table.
Stopped behind me.
“You’re just like him,” he whispered.
“Parker. Always thought he was smarter than everyone.”
He put his hands on my shoulders.
Not hard.
Just there.
“Do you know how he died?” he asked.
My blood went cold.
“What?”
“Car accident,” Peterson said. Soft.
“Very tragic. 2 weeks after we fired him.
He was drinking. Swerved. Hit a pole.”
Lie.
Parker didn’t drink.
“He wasn’t drinking,” I said.
“Were you there?” Peterson asked.
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
Because the police report said `No alcohol detected.`
Because Anderson told me.
Because I knew.
I didn’t say any of that.
I just said: “Because he wouldn’t.”
Peterson sighed.
Removed his hands.
“Fine,” he said. “We do this my way.”
He snapped his fingers.
The kitchen door opened.
Anderson.
Hands zip-tied.
Mouth taped.
Victor behind him with a gun.
Not a toy.
A real one.
---
*12:10 PM. The Trade*
Peterson smiled.
“Funny thing,” he said. “We found him outside.
Waiting for you.
Like a good dog.”
Anderson’s eyes met mine.
`Don’t`, they said.
`Don’t give it to him.`
Peterson picked up the decoy USB.
Tossed it in the air.
Caught it.
“This is worthless,” he said.
“So I need the real one.
The red one.
Or I start with his fingers.”
Victor pressed the gun to Anderson’s knee.
“Last chance,” Peterson said.
I reached into my jacket.
Slow.
Pulled out the red USB.
Peterson’s eyes lit up.
“Good girl,” he said. “Slide it across.”
I did.
It stopped halfway between us.
Peterson reached for it.
And the café lights went out.
---
*12:12 PM. Blackout*
Dark.
Shouting.
A crash.
Victor cursing.
Someone grabbed my wrist.
Pulled me up.
“Go,” Anderson’s voice. Muffled from the tape.
But it was him.
He’d gotten free.
We ran.
Out the back door.
Into the alley.
Rain again.
Behind us: Peterson yelling `Find them!`
We didn’t stop until we were 4 blocks away.
In a bus station bathroom.
Anderson ripped the tape off.
Breathing hard.
“You have it,” he said.
It wasn’t a question.
I nodded.
Held up the red USB.
“I switched them again,” I said.
“The one I gave him was the decoy.
The real one was in my shoe.”
Anderson stared at me.
Then he laughed.
Hard.
Relieved.
“Parker would be proud,” he said.
---
*1:00 PM. Safehouse*
Anderson’s apartment.
Not his office.
Not his home.
A place no one knew about.
He plugged the red USB into a laptop not connected to wifi.
Files opened.
`GENEVA_ACCOUNTS`
`WIRE_TRANSFERS_2014-2019`
`BENEFICIARIES_LIST`
`VOICEMAILS`
I clicked the last one.
Parker’s voice.
`James. If you’re hearing this, I’m dead.`
`The money goes to someone called M. The initials. I don’t have the full name.`
`But I have the account. And I have the dates.`
`Don’t let them get this. Give it to the press. Not the police. The police work for them.`
`Tell Linda I love her.`
The audio ended.
Anderson looked at me.
“M,” he said. “That’s new.”
“Who is M?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But Peterson answers to them.
And if we release this, M will come for us.”
He turned to me.
“So we have a choice.
Hide. Or go public.”
My phone buzzed.
Mom.
`Are you okay? There are men outside.`
Photo attached.
Two men.
Across the street.
Watching our building.
Peterson.
---
*3:00 PM. The Decision*
Anderson packed a bag.
Laptop.
USBs.
Cash.
“We leave tonight,” he said.
“Go to the press in the morning.
National paper. Not local.”
I nodded.
Then I looked at the red USB.
Parker’s last words:
`Be loud.`
I couldn’t hide anymore.
“Okay,” I said. “We go public.”
Anderson squeezed my shoulder.
“Tomorrow, 9 AM,” he said.
“Press conference.
And Linda?”
“Yes?”
“After this, your life changes forever.”
I thought of Booth 7.
Of Parker.
Of the text: `he’ll come for your mother next.`
“Let it,” I said.
Because I was done running.
- Writer
