Chapter 3 - THE BLUE FLASH DRIVE
I pulled the car over violently into the parking lot of a closed diner.
The tires scraped against the curb.
I put the car in park and unbuckled my seatbelt, turning completely around to face the back seat.
Lily was clutching the blue flash drive against her chest like a shield. She looked terrified, as if expecting me to yell at her.
“Lily, sweetheart,” I said, keeping my voice as steady as possible. “Where did you get that?”
She sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve.
“It fell out.”
“Fell out of what, baby?”
“The black box. The one the microscope goes in.” She looked down at her shoes. “Mason didn’t break the microscope, Mommy.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “What do you mean?”
“Mason dropped the black box,” Lily explained softly. “But it was already broken inside. When he dropped it, the lid popped open. Pieces of glass went everywhere. And this blue thing slid across the floor.”
“Did Mason see you pick it up?”
Lily shook her head. “No. He was crying. He was scared he was going to get in trouble. Then Mr. Coleman ran into the room and yelled at us.”
I stared at the small piece of plastic in her hand.
Principal Coleman didn’t care about the microscope. He cared about this.
He was trying to force a confession to close the book on the incident immediately, hoping the missing flash drive would just be written off as lost in the wreckage.
“Can I see it, Lily?”
She handed it to me. It was heavier than it looked, encased in a rugged, waterproof shell.
I pulled my laptop from my work bag on the passenger floorboard. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely open the screen.
I plugged the drive in.
A single folder popped up on the screen.
No password. No encryption.
Just a folder titled: WHITMORE WING - STRUCTURAL AUDIT - CONFIDENTIAL.
I clicked it.
Dozens of PDF files and photographs filled the screen.
I opened the first photograph. It was a close-up of a massive steel support beam. The metal was heavily rusted, cracking at the joint.
I opened a PDF. It was an engineering report dated three months ago.
I skimmed the dense text until a highlighted paragraph caught my eye.
The foundation poured for the new Whitmore Science Wing used substandard materials. In the event of heavy seismic activity or severe weather, the eastern wall is at catastrophic risk of collapse. Immediate closure of the wing is required.
I stopped breathing.
The Whitmore Science Wing.
The brand-new, multi-million dollar addition to the school.
The wing where Lily had her art and science classes every single day.
“Mommy?” Lily asked, her voice pulling me back to reality. “Are we in trouble?”
I looked at my daughter. Sitting in a building that could collapse on her at any moment. While the principal and the Whitmore family covered it up to save their investment and reputation.
“No, baby,” I whispered. “We’re not in trouble. They are.”
I reached for my phone to call the police.
Before I could dial, my phone screen lit up with a text message.
It was a picture.
A picture taken from behind my car, showing my license plate in the diner parking lot.
A second text followed immediately.
Give it back, Sarah. Or I make sure the state takes Lily away from an unfit mother.
May you like
I looked in my rearview mirror.
A black SUV with tinted windows was idling at the edge of the lot.
