Part 2 — THE GYM CLOSET

I slammed my laptop shut.

I stood up so fast my chair scraped loudly against the linoleum.

Several people in the library turned to look.

The man in the brown suit didn't flinch.

He kept his hands loose at his sides.

“Don’t make a scene, Laura,” he said, his voice a low hum. “You don’t want to scare the girl.”

Emily looked up from her book.

“Mom?”

I moved around the table and stepped between him and my daughter.

“Back away.”

“I just want the bracelet,” he said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He sighed, glancing around the quiet library.

“David Dalton is a desperate man. Desperate men do sloppy things. But I am not David Dalton. I work for the people he owes. And right now, Dalton’s debt is tied to those missing supplies.”

“I didn't take them.”

“I know you didn't. But you have the counselor’s jewelry. Which means you know who did.”

I calculated my options.

We were in public. He wouldn't hurt us here.

But we had to leave eventually.

“If you know I didn't take the boxes,” I said, keeping my voice steady, “then leave my daughter out of this.”

He smiled again.

“I have no interest in your daughter. I want the money Apex owes us. Or I want the supplies to sell and recoup the loss. Give me the bracelet, and tell me where Eleanor Parker took the boxes.”

I reached into my pocket.

My fingers brushed the cold silver of the charm bracelet.

If I gave it to him, he would go after Mrs. Parker.

And he would go after Marcus Vance.

Maybe they deserved it.

But if I handed over the only piece of evidence linking Vance to the theft, Principal Harris couldn't go to the police.

Vance would get away with stealing from kids like Emily to buy his election.

And Mrs. Dalton would get away with humiliating my daughter.

I pulled my hand out of my pocket.

Empty.

“I don’t have it,” I lied.

His smile vanished.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I threw it in the trash outside my apartment. I didn't want anything to do with it.”

He stared at me, his eyes cold and dark.

“You’re lying.”

“Check my pockets.”

He stepped closer.

I raised my voice, just enough to echo in the quiet reading room.

“Excuse me! This man is harassing us!”

A librarian near the reference desk stood up.

“Sir? Is there a problem?”

The man in the suit stopped.

He looked at the librarian, then back at me.

“We’re not done,” he whispered.

He turned and walked away, disappearing into the stacks.

I didn't wait to see if he left the building.

I grabbed Emily’s hand.

“Come on.”

We hurried out a side emergency exit, triggering a loud alarm.

I didn't care.

We ran to my car.

I locked the doors and drove out of the lot, checking my mirrors obsessively.

No blue sedan.

“Mom, I’m scared,” Emily said quietly.

“I know, baby. I am too. But we’re going to fix this.”

My phone rang.

It was Principal Harris again.

“Did you look at the engraving?” he asked.

“Yes. I also just got cornered by Dalton’s debt collector in the public library.”

Harris swore under his breath.

“You need to bring the bracelet to the police station. Now. It’s the only physical proof we have that Eleanor Parker was in that closet.”

“Why didn't you stop her, Harris? You’re the principal.”

“Because Vance threatened to shut down the school’s funding if I didn't cooperate! I was trying to protect the district.”

“You were protecting your pension.”

“Laura, please. Just bring the bracelet.”

I looked at the road ahead.

“I’m not giving it to you.”

“What? Why?”

“Because the police won't care about a dropped bracelet. A good lawyer will say she dropped it days ago. It doesn't prove Vance has the supplies.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

I merged onto the highway.

“I’m going to find the supplies.”

“How? Vance has them hidden until his campaign rally on Friday!”

“Vance is a politician,” I said. “He doesn't do his own heavy lifting. He would have hired a logistics company to move those boxes. And he would have paid them.”

“So?”

“So, I do payroll. I track money.”

I hung up on him.

I needed access to Marcus Vance’s campaign expenditures.

By law, campaign finance records are public.

But they only have to be filed quarterly.

I couldn't wait for the next filing.

I needed inside access.

I thought about the ribbon-cutting photo I had seen of Vance.

There was a woman standing behind him, holding his schedule.

Her name tag had been visible.

Sarah Jenkins - Campaign Manager.

I pulled into the parking lot of a diner on the outskirts of town.

I ordered Emily a plate of fries and opened my laptop again.

I searched LinkedIn for Sarah Jenkins in Dayton.

I found her profile.

Under her experience, it listed: Campaign Manager for Marcus Vance.

But right below that, it listed a previous job.

HR Assistant at Dayton Manufacturing.

My company.

She used to work in the cubicle next to mine three years ago.

I pulled out my phone and dialed her cell.

She answered on the second ring.

“Sarah Jenkins.”

“Sarah, it’s Laura Bennett.”

A pause.

“Laura? Oh my gosh, how are you? It’s been forever!”

“I’m good, Sarah. But I need a huge favor. And I need you to not ask questions.”

Her tone shifted. Professional. Guarded.

“What kind of favor?”

“I need the name of the freight company Marcus Vance hired last night to move an off-the-books donation.”

“Laura, I can’t give out campaign logistics.”

“Sarah, those boxes were stolen from West Dayton Elementary. They were supposed to go to kids who don't have pencils. Marcus took them to use as a prop for his rally.”

Silence.

“That’s impossible,” she said. “Marcus said those were surplus goods donated by a private sponsor.”

“He lied. And there are very dangerous people looking for those boxes right now. If Marcus parades them on stage Friday, he’s going to have cartel debt collectors crashing his rally.”

I heard her type something on a keyboard.

“Sarah, please.”

“I’m looking,” she whispered.

A few seconds later, she sighed.

“He bypassed the campaign account. He paid out of pocket. A company called Riverside Freight.”

“Where is their warehouse?”

“Warehouse 4, down by the old river docks. But Laura…”

“What?”

“The rally got moved up. He’s not waiting until Friday.”

My stomach tightened.