THE CAFETERIA CONSPIRACY

The phone felt like a block of ice against my ear.

“What do you mean she’s with you?” I demanded.

Caleb and Mateo looked up from their hot chocolate. I forced a tight smile and turned away, walking into the living room.

“I mean Maria Rivera came to the school looking for her son,” Vance said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “I offered to give her a ride to the motel. We’re taking a little detour.”

“If you hurt her, Vance, I swear to God—”

“I don't want to hurt anyone, Jennifer. I just want my blue binder.”

My heart hammered.

“The police took the binder. They arrested Principal Henderson.”

Silence on the line.

Then Vance laughed. A dry, humorless sound.

“The police didn't take the real binder. Patricia isn't stupid enough to keep the original ledger in her kitchen drawer. That was a decoy. A prop she keeps just in case Henderson ever audited her.”

I closed my eyes.

The reversal hit me like a physical blow.

Patricia wasn't just a victim being blackmailed.

She was protecting the real records.

“Patricia has the original,” Vance continued. “And I need it. You clearly have a talent for getting people to talk. Get the real binder from Patricia, and I’ll drop Maria off at your house. You have two hours.”

The line went dead.

I lowered the phone.

I looked back into the kitchen.

Mateo was laughing at something Caleb said. A nine-year-old boy whose entire life had been burned down by the man currently holding his mother hostage.

I had to find Patricia.

I called Angela.

“Angela, it’s Jennifer Miller. Did Patricia leave the school?”

“Yes,” Angela whispered, sounding panicked. “She grabbed her purse right after the police left. She said she was going home.”

“Text me her address. Now.”

My phone pinged a second later.

I grabbed my keys.

“Boys, we’re going on a field trip.”

I couldn't leave them alone, and I couldn't wait for the police. Vance had the system rigged.

I drove to the address Angela sent.

It was a small, rundown duplex on the edge of town.

Patricia’s car was parked in the driveway.

I told the boys to stay locked in the car. I left the engine running and the air conditioning on.

I walked up to the front door and knocked.

No answer.

I knocked harder.

“Patricia! It’s Jennifer Miller! Open the door!”

Still nothing.

I turned the knob. It was unlocked.

I pushed the door open.

The house was a mess. Boxes were stacked everywhere.

Patricia was frantically packing a suitcase in the living room.

When she saw me, she froze.

“Get out!” she yelled.

“Where is the real binder, Patricia?”

She looked terrified. “I don't know what you’re talking about.”

“Vance has Mateo’s mother. He’s going to hurt her if I don't bring him the real ledger.”

Patricia’s face drained of color.

She sank onto the edge of the sofa, covering her face with her hands.

“I can't give it to you,” she sobbed.

“Why not?”

She looked up.

Tangled in her fingers was a wooden rosary.

“Because Rivera Property Management isn't just Marcus Vance,” she whispered. “It’s my husband.”

I stared at her.

“Your husband?”

“We separated three years ago,” she cried. “He buys rundown apartment buildings. He evicts the tenants, renovates, and flips them for luxury condos.”

“By burning them down?” I asked, disgusted.

“If they refuse to leave, yes,” she choked out. “Vance works for him. Vance targets the schools to find out which families are undocumented or too poor to fight back. Then my husband buys their buildings.”

“And the lunch money?”

“It was petty cash,” Patricia said. “A way for Vance to pocket extra money on the side. My husband didn't even know about that part.”

She clutched the rosary tighter.

“If I give you the real ledger, it links the fake attendance records directly to my husband's LLC. He’ll kill me, Jennifer.”

I stepped forward.

“He’s going to kill Maria Rivera today if you don't.”

Patricia looked at the rosary.

Then she stood up.

She walked over to a loose floorboard near the fireplace.

She pried it up and pulled out a heavy, black leather notebook.

She handed it to me.

“Take it,” she whispered. “But Vance is lying to you.”