Victor's sudden silence frightened Caleb more than his usual shouting. The manager was a large man who treated the diner like a private kingdom, throwing out uneaten bread and docking staff for tiny mistakes. He had never shown interest in legal paperwork. Now he stared at the photograph as though it had been pulled from his own desk.
"We're closed," Victor snapped. "Everybody out." Vale remained calm. He had imagined losing this job a hundred times, usually after another argument about his schedule. Eli had no reason to trust easy answers.
"We're meeting with Mr. Morgan." "He works for me. That means he leaves when I say he leaves." Victor stepped toward Noah's booth. Caleb moved between them before he could reach the children.
Eli pushed against his brother's side, trembling again. "They're finishing dinner," Caleb said. "I'll clean everything myself." Victor pointed at the soup. "You put that on a ticket?" "Employee meals." "That's theft when it leaves your table." Victor reached for the bowls, but Noah gripped his spoon and refused to let go.
The gesture seemed to embarrass Victor, who glanced at the lawyers and withdrew his hand. Then he announced, loudly enough for everyone to hear, that Caleb was fired. Caleb felt the floor drop beneath him. His rent was due Friday.
His mother needed another prescription, and he'd been saving for a replacement heater. Yet the two boys were looking at him, waiting to learn whether kindness disappeared the moment it became expensive. "I'll leave after they're somewhere safe," he answered. Reed opened his briefcase and pulled out a thin folder.
"Mr. Raines, there's something we should clarify. Your name appears on an affidavit filed in the guardianship case. You witnessed a signature for Marisol Bennett." Victor went pale, then laughed too quickly.
"I see hundreds of people. You must have the wrong Victor." "Your driver's license number is on the form," Reed said. Vale didn't raise his voice. He asked a single question.
"Were you with Mrs. Bennett at Westbridge on March sixteenth?" Victor stared at the clock. Caleb followed his gaze and realized the manager wasn't watching the time; he was watching the reflection in the dark front window. A car had pulled up behind the lawyers' sedan.
Its headlights remained on. "Those children don't belong here," Victor muttered. "You have no idea whose business you're interfering with." Noah stood and reached into his pocket. His fingers closed around the folded photograph.
"My mom told me if this happened," he said, looking at Caleb, "I should find the man who keeps the blue notebook." Caleb's breath caught. There was only one blue notebook he knew, and it had belonged to his dead father.