Chapter 3 - The Bag in the Dumpster
The community kitchen looked wounded.
The front window had been shattered.
Food covered the floor.
Cabinet doors hung open.
Boxes of rice and pasta had been dumped across counters as though someone had searched every inch.
Renley ran inside before Roman could stop her.
“Mrs. Alvarez!”
A woman in her sixties emerged from the office.
“Renley!”
They hugged.
“Are you okay?”
“We're fine. Nobody was here when it happened.”
Renley pulled back.
“My delivery bag. Gray one. Old strap.”
Mrs. Alvarez looked confused.
“We threw it away this morning.”
Roman stopped behind them.
“Where?”
“The dumpster.”
Renley ran.
The dumpster stood behind the building.
Its lid was open.
Trash bags had been ripped apart.
Roman looked once and knew.
“Somebody beat us here.”
Renley's stomach sank.
Then she noticed something.
A small thread caught on the fence.
Gray fabric.
She followed it.
Ten feet away, behind stacked milk crates, lay part of her old bag.
Slashed open.
Roman picked it up.
The inside lining had been cut.
Nothing remained.
“Whatever your father hid,” Miles said, “they have it.”
Roman examined the torn seam.
“No.”
He ran his fingers along it.
Then looked at Renley.
“You said he repaired the strap?”
“Yes.”
Roman tore open the shoulder padding.
Inside was a tiny roll of paper wrapped in plastic.
Miles stared.
“Walter, you paranoid genius.”
Roman unrolled it.
There was no ledger.
Only a hand-drawn map.
And three words.
ST. MATTHEW'S. MIDNIGHT.
Mrs. Alvarez watched from the doorway.
“Renley, who are these people?”
Renley glanced at Roman.
She suddenly realized how absurd her day had become.
“This is…”
Roman answered.
“Someone who owes your kitchen a new window.”
Mrs. Alvarez recognized him.
Her expression changed.
Roman noticed.
“Yes,” he said. “That Roman Vale.”
She stepped protectively in front of Renley.
Roman almost smiled.
“I like you already.”
“Stay away from the child.”
“I'd prefer to.”
“Then leave.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
Roman held up Walter's map.
“Because my father trusted her more than he trusted me.”
Mrs. Alvarez stared.
Roman explained enough to make the situation clear without describing his criminal world.
When he finished, she sat.
“Walter Pike?”
“You knew him?”
“He donated.”
Roman frowned.
“What?”
“Twenty dollars every month.”
Renley looked surprised.
Walter often struggled to pay for heating.
Mrs. Alvarez opened a drawer and pulled out handwritten receipts.
“He always insisted.”
Roman examined them.
Every donation had been made on Thursday.
The day Renley delivered his meals.
“Why?”
Mrs. Alvarez smiled sadly.
“He said people shouldn't wait until they're rich to be generous.”
Roman looked away.
Another piece of his father emerged.
One he had never known.
As evening approached, Roman wanted Renley sent home under protection.
Renley refused.
“You said the map came from my bag.”
“Yes.”
“Walter hid it there because he trusted me.”
“Yes.”
“Then I'm coming.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because St. Matthew's at midnight is exactly where I'd set an ambush.”
“Then why are you going?”
Roman stared at her.
“Because I'm not twelve.”
Renley put her hands on her hips.
“That's not an answer.”
Miles turned away to hide his grin.
Roman finally crouched slightly so they were closer to eye level.
“Listen carefully. Courage and recklessness are cousins. They look alike until somebody gets hurt.”
Renley's expression softened.
“Mr. Pike used to say something like that.”
Roman's eyebrows lifted.
“What?”
“He said brave people still get scared. They just choose what matters more.”
Roman stood.
His father again.
Always speaking through her.
“Fine,” Roman said.
Miles stared.
“Boss?”
“She stays in the car.”
Renley smiled.
“I can accept that.”
Roman pointed at her.
“In the car.”
“Okay.”
“No arguments.”
“Probably.”
Roman sighed.
At eleven forty-five that night, their vehicle stopped across from St. Matthew's Church.
The building had been abandoned for renovations.
No lights.
No cars.
Roman and Miles entered.
Renley stayed with Jonah.
For four minutes.
Then she noticed the man.
Standing across the street.
Watching the car.
Not Roman.
Not Miles.
Not anyone she knew.
He wore a baseball cap and held a phone.
Renley ducked.
“Jonah.”
“I see him.”
The man lifted the phone.
A second later, Jonah's phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
Then the man across the street smiled.
Jonah answered.
A voice said, “Tell Roman Vale to walk out of that church without whatever Walter left behind.”
Jonah's face hardened.
“Who is this?”
The voice ignored him.
“Or the little girl dies first.”
Jonah reached for the door.
The man across the street vanished behind a parked van.
Renley grabbed Jonah's sleeve.
“Don't.”
“What?”
“He wants you to leave me alone.”
Jonah froze.
Smart kid.
Another phone rang.
This one was Renley's.
Her mother's number.
Renley answered immediately.
“Mom?”
A man's voice responded.
“Hello, Renley.”
Her blood turned cold.
“Your mother's safe.”
Renley couldn't speak.
“For now.”
“Where is she?”
“That depends on Roman.”
The call ended.
Renley's hand shook.
Roman emerged from the church carrying a small wooden box.
He saw her face.
Then Jonah's.
“What happened?”
Renley held up her phone.
“They have my mom.”
Roman stopped.
For the first time that night, fear entered his eyes.
Not fear for himself.
Fear because Walter's warning had become real.
Roman looked at the wooden box in his hand.
Then at Renley.
The box contained something men were willing to kill for.
Renley whispered, “Give it to them.”
Roman answered without hesitation.
“I will.”
Miles stared.
“Boss, we don't even know what it is.”
Roman's eyes remained on the terrified twelve-year-old.
“My father wrote one thing I understood perfectly.”
“What?”
Roman placed the box inside his coat.
“People are more valuable than secrets.”
Then his phone rang.
A distorted voice gave him an address.
And one instruction.
May you like
Come alone.
---
