Chapter 3 - THE GHOST IN THE COAT
Evan didn't go up to the thirty-second floor.
He couldn't.
His mind was racing, torn between Whitmore’s brutal threat and the impossible discovery in his hand.
He clocked out quietly, slipping out through the loading dock.
The Boston wind hit him like a physical blow, cutting through his thin jacket, but he barely felt it.
His fingers were wrapped tightly around the silver pocket watch in his pocket.
The subway ride home took forty minutes.
Forty minutes of staring at his reflection in the dark glass, wondering how a billionaire who owned half the country knew a mechanic who died with twelve dollars in his checking account.
Evan’s apartment was in a crumbling brick building in East Boston.
Four flights of stairs.
No elevator.
The hallway always smelled of boiled cabbage and damp carpets.
He unlocked the door.
“Ev?”
Emma was sitting at the tiny kitchen table, her math textbook open.
She was thirteen, but she looked younger.
Too thin.
Dark circles under her eyes from a week of bad sleep and wheezing.
“Hey, Em,” Evan said, forcing a smile.
He walked over and kissed the top of her head.
The apartment was freezing.
The radiator in the corner was hissing, but it produced more noise than heat.
“You’re home early,” Emma said, closing her book. She looked at his hands. “Where’s your uniform jacket?”
“Left it in my locker.”
The front door opened again.
Their mother, Sarah, walked in.
She was wearing her blue hospital scrubs, covered by a heavy gray cardigan.
She looked exhausted.
Her shoulders slumped as she dropped her keys onto the counter.
“Mom? You’re not supposed to be home until three,” Evan said.
Sarah didn't look at him immediately.
She walked to the sink, turned on the tap, and stared at the running water.
“Mom?”
She turned off the water and faced them.
Her eyes were red.
“They let me go.”
Evan felt the floor drop out from under him.
“What?”
“The hospital administrator called me into his office an hour ago,” Sarah said, her voice shaking. “He said they’re downsizing the overnight staff. He gave me two weeks of severance.”
Evan felt physically sick.
Whitmore.
He hadn't even waited. He had made the call the second Evan hesitated in the hallway.
“We’ll figure it out, Mom,” Emma said quickly, her voice tight with panic.
“I don't know how, baby,” Sarah whispered, finally breaking down. She covered her face with her hands. “Emma’s inhaler refill is due Friday. It’s four hundred dollars without the hospital insurance. The rent is due Monday. I don't have it.”
Evan stood frozen.
He had tried to do a good thing.
He had given an old man his breakfast.
And it had destroyed his family.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the heavy brown wool coat he had carried all the way home.
He hadn't realized he was still holding it.
He laid Samuel Reed’s coat on the kitchen table.
Sarah wiped her eyes and looked at it.
“Where did you get that? It smells like wet dog.”
Evan didn't answer.
He reached into his own pocket and pulled out the tarnished silver pocket watch.
He placed it on the table next to the coat.
Sarah stared at it.
All the breath seemed to leave her body.
“Where did you find that?” she whispered.
“A man left it at the hotel,” Evan said.
Sarah reached out, her hands trembling violently.
She picked up the watch.
She flipped it open.
She looked at the faded photograph of her late husband standing next to Samuel Reed.
“Mom,” Evan said softly. “Who is that man with Dad?”
Sarah looked up.
Her eyes weren't sad anymore.
They were burning with a hatred Evan had never seen before.
“That is the man who killed your father.”
Evan stepped back.
“What?”
“Jonathan trusted him,” Sarah said, her voice turning into a venomous hiss. “They built a logistics software program together in our garage. Then Samuel Reed took the patent, locked your father out, and built an empire.”
She threw the watch against the wall.
The glass shattered completely.
“If you ever see Samuel Reed again,” Sarah said, her voice shaking with rage, “you tell him to stay away from us. He owes us a life.”
Evan stared at the broken pieces of the watch on the floor.
Whitmore had just destroyed his mother’s job.
But Samuel Reed had destroyed their family years ago.
Suddenly, a loud knock rattled their front door.
Evan turned.
He walked to the door and pulled it open.
Rachel, the lawyer in the black wool coat, was standing in the dimly lit hallway.
Behind her stood two large men in dark suits.
She looked at Evan, her expression completely unreadable.
“Mr. Miller,” Rachel said quietly. “Mr. Reed needs you to come with us.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Evan said.
Rachel looked past him, locking eyes with Sarah.
“You need to come, too. Because Charles Whitmore didn't just fire you today.”
May you like
Rachel held up a thick legal envelope.
“He just filed a police report claiming Evan assaulted him in the lobby. There’s a warrant out for your arrest.”
