Chapter 5 - The Arrest Under the Tracks
Sophie was out of the car before Marcus could stop her.
“Maya!”
I caught her around the waist.
The officer turned. “Sir, keep the child back.”
Maya stood beside a shopping cart loaded with blankets and plastic bags. Her wrists were cuffed. Rain had soaked her hair flat against her face.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Complaint of trespassing and stolen property.”
“Stolen from whom?”
The officer pointed toward a man in a Lakeview security jacket.
My jaw tightened.
The same guard from the photograph.
His name badge read BRIGGS.
He recognized me and immediately changed his posture.
“Mr. Harrison. We didn't know you'd be here.”
“That makes two of us.”
Briggs held up a school calculator and a hardback textbook. “These belong to Lakeview.”
“They threw those books away,” Sophie shouted.
The officer looked at her.
Briggs frowned. “She has no permission to possess school property.”
Maya stared at the ground.
I asked, “Did she break into the school?”
“No, but—”
“Did anyone see her steal those items?”
Briggs hesitated.
The officer's expression changed.
I called my attorney. Fifteen minutes later, after a great deal of irritated conversation, the cuffs came off.
Maya rubbed her wrists.
“I don't need your rescue,” she said.
Sophie flinched.
“Maybe not,” I said. “But you need somewhere warm tonight.”
“No.”
“It's thirty-six degrees and raining.”
“I said no.”
Briggs smirked. “She likes making things difficult.”
I turned on him.
“Leave.”
“Mr. Harrison—”
“Before I decide to make your employment difficult.”
He left.
Maya watched me with suspicion. “You think threatening people makes you a good guy?”
“No. I'm starting to realize I don't know what makes me a good guy.”
That silenced all three of us.
Sophie stepped forward and offered Maya her scarf.
Maya's face softened.
“One night,” she said. “That's it.”
At home, our housekeeper, Mrs. Alvarez, gave Maya dry clothes and soup. Maya ate slowly at first, then faster, trying not to look hungry.
After Sophie went upstairs, Maya finally spoke.
“Claire knew the school was moving scholarship money.”
I set down my coffee.
“What do you mean, moving it where?”
“She asked me to help her check numbers because I was good with spreadsheets. We found payments that didn't match student accounts.”
“Payments to whom?”
“She never figured out all of them.”
Maya's eyes lifted to mine.
“But I did.”
She reached into her battered backpack.
The side pocket was empty.
Her face drained of color.
“No.”
“What?”
“The paper. The one you saw today.”
She tore through the bag.
“It was in here.”
May you like
Then she looked toward the front windows.
Outside, a shadow moved across our lawn.
