Chapter 3 - THE STOLEN TIME
“David,” I said, the word tasting like ash in my mouth.
My business partner of fifteen years walked into the cafeteria, his eyes immediately locking onto the brown leather portfolio in my hands. He didn't look at the hungry children. He didn't look at Claire. He only cared about the paperwork.
“James,” David said smoothly, forcing a calm smile that didn't reach his eyes. “Linda called me from her smartwatch. I understand there’s a bit of confusion regarding the charitable fund.”
I stared at the silver pocket watch dangling from his fingers. The chain glinted under the harsh fluorescent lights.
“How did you get that?” I demanded, pointing at the watch.
David glanced down at it, pretending to be casually surprised. “Oh, this? I stopped by your house this morning to drop off some contract revisions. Your housekeeper let me into your study. I noticed it sitting on your desk and thought I’d bring it to you. You know how you are with misplacing things.”
He was lying. I had locked that watch inside my wall safe two days ago.
“You broke into my safe,” I said, the reality of his betrayal deepening with every passing second.
“Don’t be dramatic, James,” David chuckled, stepping closer. “We need to talk in private. Mrs. Harper, please take Claire back to her classroom. Beth, clean up this mess.”
Beth, the cafeteria worker who had first warned me, stepped firmly in front of Claire. “I’m not taking orders from you, Mr. Thorne. Not anymore.”
David’s smile vanished. He glared at Beth with a look of pure, unadulterated venom. “Careful, Elizabeth. You know exactly what happens if you breach our arrangement.”
I stepped between David and Beth, shielding both her and my daughter. “What arrangement?”
David sighed, rubbing his temples as if dealing with unruly children. “James, the construction market is brutal right now. We were drowning in equipment debt. I found a creative way to liquidate the lunch fund to keep Callahan & Thorne afloat. I created Apex Solutions as a shell company to process the cash.”
“By starving children?” I yelled, the anger finally boiling over. “By forging my daughter’s signature on withdrawal forms?”
“It was a victimless reallocation!” David argued, his voice echoing off the tile walls. “Those kids get reduced meals anyway! I just sped up the paperwork. And I needed Claire’s name on the trust documents so the IRS wouldn't flag a direct transfer to our firm.”
He had an answer for everything, a slick corporate justification for absolute moral rot.
“You’ve been having a man in a white truck watch my house,” I said, stepping closer to him. “Apex Solutions. That wasn't just a shell company. You hired a private investigator to stalk my daughter.”
David froze. The slick corporate facade cracked.
“I didn’t hire anyone to watch Claire,” David said, and for the first time, he sounded genuinely unsettled. “Apex Solutions is just a post office box in downtown Raleigh. It doesn't have any trucks. It doesn't have any employees.”
I stared at him. He was a liar, but he was a terrible liar when he was caught off guard. He was telling the truth about the truck.
“Then who owns the truck?” I asked softly.
Beth reached into her apron pocket with shaking hands. She pulled out a crumpled, grease-stained receipt and handed it to me.
“I found this in Mrs. Harper’s trash can this morning,” Beth whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I didn't know what it meant until now.”
I unfolded the receipt. It was a payment confirmation for a private security firm. The client listed wasn't David Thorne.
May you like
The client listed was my late wife, Sarah Callahan.
And the date on the receipt was three days ago.
