Chapter 2
I turned toward the ballroom doors just as the man in the dark suit disappeared into the hallway.
"Security!" I shouted.
Several heads turned.
My head of security, Andre Collins, rushed toward me.
"Sir?"
"Find that man."
"Which man?"
"Dark suit. Tall. Gray beard. He was standing by the entrance."
Andre spoke into his radio.
Two guards moved toward the hallway.
I turned back to Malik.
The boy was breathing hard.
"Who was that?"
He didn't answer.
His eyes stayed fixed on the doorway.
Lily held his hand.
"It's okay, Malik."
He shook his head.
"No, Lil. It's not."
I crouched in front of him.
"Listen to me. Nobody is going to hurt you here."
He looked at me.
For a moment, I saw something that made my stomach twist.
He didn't believe me.
And why should he?
He had entered a room full of wealthy people.
Everyone had stared at his clothes.
I had treated him like an intruder.
Now I was asking him to trust me.
"What's your last name?" I asked.
"Johnson."
"Malik Johnson?"
He nodded.
"How old are you?"
"Nine."
"Where are your parents?"
His face changed.
"My mama's gone."
"I'm sorry."
He looked down.
"My grandma takes care of me."
"Where is she?"
"At home."
"Does she know you're here?"
He hesitated.
Then shook his head.
I looked at Andre's assistant standing nearby.
"Get him some water and something to eat."
Malik spoke quickly.
"I don't want money."
"I didn't offer you money."
"I don't want you thinking I came to beg."
My chest tightened.
"Son, I don't think that."
He looked at my emerald tuxedo.
Then at his bare feet.
"I just needed somebody to listen."
Those words silenced me.
I turned toward the crowd.
"Everyone, the event will take a short break."
A few guests began whispering.
I didn't care.
I asked Andre to have the musicians resume softly while we moved to a private lounge adjoining the ballroom.
Lily refused to release Malik's hand.
"He's coming with us, Daddy."
"Of course."
Inside the lounge, Malik sat on the edge of a leather chair.
He ate half a sandwich in three bites.
Then stopped.
"Can I save the rest?"
I nodded.
"Take whatever you need."
He carefully wrapped the remaining food in a napkin.
I pretended not to notice the way my heart hurt.
Lily watched him.
"Malik, why didn't you come find me before?"
He looked at her.
"I tried."
"When?"
"After you left the hospital."
I frowned.
"How?"
"My grandma took me to your old house."
I remembered selling that house six months after the accident.
Everything inside reminded me of Amara.
I couldn't bear living there.
"We didn't know where you moved," Malik continued.
"Why didn't you contact the police?" I asked.
He gave me a strange look.
"Because they said I was confused."
I leaned forward.
"Who said that?"
"The man at the hospital."
"What man?"
Malik looked toward the door.
"The one you just saw."
I felt cold.
"Do you know his name?"
"Mr. Price."
I stopped breathing.
Dr. Victor Price.
He had been the trauma physician who spoke to me after the accident.
He was the man who told me Amara had died.
He had explained that her injuries were too severe.
He had personally helped arrange the paperwork for her remains to be transferred.
And I had trusted him.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
Malik nodded.
"He had a name tag."
My mind raced.
I hadn't seen Price since the hospital.
Why would he be at my charity gala?
And why would Malik be afraid of him?
Lily tugged my sleeve.
"Daddy?"
I turned.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Can Malik tell you about the red truck?"
The room went still.
"What red truck?"
Malik stared at Lily.
"You remember?"
She nodded slowly.
"Sometimes."
I looked between them.
"Lily, what are you talking about?"
Her face tightened.
"I thought it was a dream."
Malik set down his sandwich.
"It wasn't."
I leaned closer.
"Tell me."
Malik swallowed.
"The day of the accident, we were at the park."
I remembered that day.
Amara had taken Lily to visit her old neighborhood.
She said they were meeting friends.
I had been working.
She called me around noon.
We argued.
Not badly.
Just the kind of argument married couples have when work keeps getting in the way.
I had promised to meet them.
Then a business emergency came up.
I never arrived.
Three hours later, the police called.
Malik continued.
"We were playing by the basketball court."
Lily closed her eyes.
"Mommy bought lemonade."
Malik nodded.
"Then a man came."
My pulse quickened.
"What man?"
"Mr. Price."
I stared at him.
"Dr. Price was at the park?"
"He was talking to Lily's mama."
I looked at my daughter.
"Do you remember that?"
She nodded faintly.
"Mommy was upset."
Malik's voice grew smaller.
"She told him to leave."
I gripped the chair.
"Then what happened?"
"Her phone rang. She got scared."
Lily whispered, "She said we had to go."
Malik nodded.
"She told me to stay with Grandma Rose."
I frowned.
"Your grandmother?"
"Yeah."
"What happened after they left?"
Malik's eyes filled.
"I saw the red truck follow them."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"What kind of truck?"
"Big. Red. Had a broken light."
I sat back.
The police report had said Amara lost control of her vehicle during heavy rain.
Her car left the road and struck a concrete barrier.
No other vehicle had been identified.
I remembered reading that report more times than I could count.
There had been no mention of a truck.
"Malik, did you tell anyone?"
He nodded.
"I told the police."
"What did they say?"
"That I was too little to understand."
I felt anger rise.
"Who took your statement?"
"I don't know."
He reached into his pocket.
Then stopped.
His expression changed.
"Wait."
I leaned forward.
"What?"
He looked at Lily.
"Tell your daddy about the song."
My daughter began crying.
"The song?"
Malik nodded.
"The one your mama taught us."
Lily looked at me.
"Mommy said if we ever got lost, we should remember the song."
I frowned.
"What song?"
She began humming.
At first, it sounded familiar.
Then I recognized it.
Amara used to sing it while braiding Lily's hair.
A silly little tune she had made up herself.
But Malik knew every note.
I suddenly realized the photograph wasn't the only thing connecting them.
They shared memories I had never been part of.
Malik reached inside his shirt again.
This time he removed a folded piece of paper.
"Grandma said I should give this to you."
I opened it.
It was an old receipt from a storage facility.
A unit number had been circled.
Underneath, someone had written a sentence.
MARCUS MUST NEVER TRUST THE HOSPITAL REPORT.
My hands went numb.
"Who wrote this?"
Malik swallowed.
"Your wife."
I stared at him.
"Amara?"
He nodded.
"She gave it to my grandma before the accident."
I looked at the paper.
Then at my daughter.
Then at the boy who had crossed a city barefoot to find us.
"Malik," I whispered, "what's inside that storage unit?"
His eyes filled with fear.
"I don't know."
He looked toward the door.
"But Grandma said if Mr. Price found out I brought you that paper, he'd come after us."
Before I could respond, Andre entered the lounge.
His expression was tense.
"Mr. Bennett, we found the man."
I stood.
"Where is he?"
Andre hesitated.
"He's gone."
My stomach dropped.
"But we checked the guest records."
"And?"
Andre looked directly at me.
"Dr. Victor Price wasn't invited tonight."
He paused.
"Someone used a security credential to let him inside."
I felt cold.
"Whose credential?"
May you like
Andre swallowed.
"Your brother's."
