Chapter 6 - The Waitress Who Knew My Name
The warehouse became chaos.
No dramatic gunfight.
No movie heroics.
Just darkness, shouting and bodies moving too quickly.
Mateo dragged me behind a concrete pillar.
“Stay.”
“I’m starting to hate that word.”
“Harper.”
“Fine.”
Emergency lights flickered on.
Grant was gone.
Not dead.
Gone.
A side door stood open.
Luca swore.
“They took him.”
Mateo stared at the doorway.
“Or he ran.”
“He seemed terrified.”
“He is terrified.”
“Of Dominic?”
Mateo didn’t answer.
That silence told me enough.
We returned to the North Shore house just before noon.
Mateo spent three hours behind closed doors with Luca.
I spent three hours discovering that Rosa believed emotional crises could be solved with soup.
At four, Mateo emerged.
“You need to eat somewhere public.”
“What?”
“We’ve been inside too long.”
“Are we going to lunch or appearing in public deliberately?”
“The second.”
I stared.
“You want whoever’s watching to know I’m with you.”
“Yes.”
“That seems dangerous.”
“It can also be protective.”
“How?”
“Anyone considering touching you now has to consider whether doing so means declaring war openly.”
“You say things like that and then wonder why I call you terrifying.”
He handed me a coat.
The restaurant belonged to a celebrity chef and had floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the river.
Everyone recognized Mateo.
Nobody stared directly.
A waitress approached.
Dark red hair.
Green eyes.
She poured water.
Then looked at me.
“Harper Jenkins.”
My fingers froze around the glass.
Mateo noticed.
“Do you know her?”
“No.”
The waitress smiled.
“Your father used to bring you to Lou Mitchell’s.”
My breath caught.
“How do you know that?”
Her smile vanished.
“My father worked with yours.”
Mateo’s chair shifted.
“What was his name?”
“Daniel Reese.”
Mateo knew it.
I could tell.
The waitress quickly slipped a folded receipt under my glass.
Then walked away.
I opened it.
Bathroom. Alone. Two minutes.
Mateo read it.
“No.”
“Her father knew mine.”
“Which is precisely why you’re not going alone.”
“She specifically said alone.”
“That does not improve the argument.”
I leaned closer.
“If she wanted to kill me, she could poison the water.”
Mateo looked at the glass.
I pushed it toward him.
“Great. Now you’re worried about that too.”
He sighed.
“One minute.”
I entered the restroom.
The waitress waited inside.
“My name is Claire Reese.”
“What do you know?”
“My father died seven years ago.”
“How?”
“Supposed accident.”
The words punched me.
“My father too.”
“I know.”
Claire reached inside her apron and removed a flash drive.
“My dad left this.”
I stared.
“He told my mother never to use it unless Robert Jenkins’s family became involved.”
“Why?”
“He said your father was the only person who copied the original manifests.”
“What manifests?”
“Trucks carrying illegal cargo through legitimate companies.”
My stomach tightened.
“Valente Transportation?”
“Before Mateo owned most of the routes.”
“Dominic?”
Claire’s eyes flicked toward the door.
“Your father suspected him.”
“Why haven’t you gone to the police?”
“We did.”
“And?”
“The detective handling it retired two months later.”
“Name?”
She swallowed.
“Stephen Caruso.”
I stared.
“Caruso?”
“Vincent Caruso’s uncle.”
The restroom door opened.
Mateo stepped inside.
Claire reached for something.
He raised his hands.
“Relax.”
“You weren’t invited.”
“I’m developing a pattern of ignoring doors when Harper is involved.”
I almost smiled.
Claire looked at him.
“My father hated your family.”
“I’m aware.”
“He also said you were different.”
Mateo’s expression tightened.
“He was wrong about many things.”
Claire handed me the flash drive.
“Don’t give that to anyone.”
She looked at Mateo.
“Especially him.”
Then she walked out.
I stared at the tiny device.
Mateo said, “You should give it to me.”
I laughed.
“She literally just said not to.”
“I heard.”
“Then no.”
He stared.
“No?”
“Yes. It’s a useful word. You should become familiar with it.”
His gaze dropped to the drive.
“Whatever is on there may be dangerous.”
“So is everything near you.”
He couldn’t argue.
Back at the house, I used an old laptop disconnected from the internet.
The flash drive contained hundreds of scanned documents.
Shipping logs.
Invoices.
Bank transfers.
Photographs.
Then one video file.
Dated six years ago.
Two weeks before my father died.
I clicked play.
Robert Jenkins appeared.
My father.
Alive.
My hand flew to my mouth.
His face was older than I remembered.
Tired.
Afraid.
He looked directly into the camera.
“If Harper or Emily ever sees this, then I failed.”
Tears blurred my vision.
Mateo stood behind me.
My father continued.
“The man behind the shipments is Dominic Valente.”
Mateo closed his eyes.
“But Dominic isn’t working alone.”
My father looked off-camera.
Then back.
“He has someone inside the Caruso family.”
The video glitched.
A name appeared.
I leaned closer.
Then the power went out.
The screen went black.
From outside the house came the sound of glass breaking.
And Mateo whispered:
May you like
“They found us.”
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