Chapter 11 - The Man With the Chain
Maya enlarged the photograph until its edges dissolved into squares. The maintenance man's face was unmistakable: heavy eyebrows, a crooked nose, a scar beneath his chin. A name appeared on the old work badge pinned to his shirt.
GLENN PIKE.
"He testified that he never went near the basement that day," Naomi said.
Maya pulled his statement. "He said he was home sick."
"Somebody kept this for three years," Naomi said.
"And decided now was the time to send it," Maya replied. "I want to know why."
At nine, they met Nia in her lawyer's office. The raw ballroom footage filled a laptop screen. Vanessa sneered, pointed at the giant image of Rosa, and swung her shoe toward Naomi's face. Naomi flinched, blocked, and struck once. On the audio, Vanessa's voice came through clearly: "Your mother got what she deserved."
Nia stopped the video. The silence felt thicker than applause.
"There's your context," she said.
Maya had already arranged for the material to be delivered to the prosecutor with a sworn statement about its chain of custody. She warned Naomi against posting edited clips or turning evidence into a social-media fight.
"They didn't worry about fairness when they posted mine," Naomi said.
"That's why we have to."
Outside city hall, families from three Sterling-owned buildings held handmade signs. SAFE HOMES, NOT EMPTY PROMISES. The council finance committee was meeting that afternoon; the full vote was scheduled for Friday.
Theo arrived with a stroller and his five-year-old daughter, Hazel. He had lost his paycheck, but he'd brought the production schedule from the hotel. Beside the speaker list was one name handwritten in red: Glenn Pike, Security Operations.
"He's working the city reception tomorrow," Theo said. "Same contractor, new uniform."
Before Naomi could answer, a woman pushed through the crowd. She wore a brown city employee badge and carried a plain folder under her jacket.
"My name is Mara Voss," she whispered. "I sent you the picture."
May you like
She looked over her shoulder toward a black SUV at the curb.
"If you want the missing page nineteen, you need to come with me. Now."
