Chapter 3 - The Phone in the Backpack
Jordan refused to give Olivia the address.
That surprised her.
Most adults in Olivia's world became more cooperative when she spoke with authority.
Jordan became less.
“Where are you?” she repeated.
“I'll meet you somewhere.”
“It is almost ten at night.”
“I know.”
“You're twelve.”
“I know that too.”
“Your mother is there?”
“Yes.”
“Can I speak to her?”
“No.”
Olivia closed her eyes.
“Jordan.”
“My mom doesn't know about the phone.”
“Why not?”
“Because she'll make me throw it away.”
“Why?”
“Because she doesn't like trouble.”
Neither did Olivia.
Yet trouble had apparently been sitting inside Jordan's backpack for a week.
They agreed to meet the next morning at a twenty-four-hour diner near Van Ness Avenue.
Olivia barely slept.
At six-thirty, she woke Grace and told her there would be no school.
Grace's face lit up.
“Vacation?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because I said so.”
“That doesn't sound like a reason.”
It sounded exactly like something Olivia herself would have said at six.
By seven-fifteen, Grace was with Olivia's sister, Natalie.
Olivia gave her only a vague explanation.
“I'll tell you later.”
Natalie looked suspicious.
“You don't usually tell me later.”
“I know.”
“Should I worry?”
“Yes.”
Natalie stared.
Olivia corrected herself.
“No. Just keep Grace with you.”
“That's not comforting.”
“It wasn't meant to be.”
At 7:52, Olivia entered the diner.
Jordan was already there.
He sat in a rear booth beside a woman Olivia assumed was his mother.
The resemblance was immediate.
Same brown eyes.
Same stubborn mouth.
But Jordan's mother looked exhausted in a way makeup couldn't hide.
Her hair was tied loosely at the back of her neck. She wore a black restaurant uniform beneath a thrift-store coat.
Jordan looked annoyed.
“You told her,” Olivia said.
“She caught me leaving.”
His mother crossed her arms.
“My son said a rich woman needed to see him at eight in the morning. You'll forgive me for coming along.”
“Of course.”
“Melissa Reed.”
“Olivia Hayes.”
“I know.”
The way Melissa said it wasn't flattering.
Olivia sat opposite them.
A waitress approached.
Melissa ordered coffee.
Jordan ordered nothing.
Olivia noticed.
“Breakfast?”
“No.”
“Jordan.”
“I said no.”
Melissa looked embarrassed.
“He ate.”
Jordan didn't look at her.
Olivia understood the lie.
She signaled the waitress.
“Three breakfasts, please. Whatever is fastest.”
Melissa's face tightened.
“We didn't ask—”
“Neither did I. I'm hungry.”
It was clumsy.
They both knew it.
But Melissa let it go.
Jordan unzipped his backpack.
From beneath a folded sweatshirt, he pulled out a small black phone.
Cheap.
Scratched.
The kind sold prepaid at pharmacies.
He placed it on the table.
Olivia stared.
“Where exactly did you find it?”
“By the bus bench.”
“After Evelyn met the man?”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn't you give it to police?”
Jordan gave her a look suggesting she had asked the dumbest question imaginable.
Melissa answered.
“Because people don't always assume the best about kids who look like him.”
Olivia met her eyes.
There was no accusation in the words.
That made them worse.
Jordan pushed the phone toward Olivia.
“It wasn't locked.”
She opened the messages.
There were no contact names.
Only numbers.
Most messages were coded enough that they could mean anything.
Others weren't.
H leaving Hayes Capital 18:10.
G with sitter until 20:00.
Board dinner moved to Fairmont.
Pacific flight now Thursday AM.
Then:
Prescott call confirmed. 16:00 residence.
Olivia felt nauseated.
The Prescott negotiation had been confidential for six weeks.
Only her attorney, CFO, assistant and two senior executives knew.
And Evelyn.
Because Olivia took important calls from home when Grace was there.
She scrolled.
Payments appeared too.
Package Tuesday. Same place.
Need February travel. Double rate.
Jordan watched her.
“Told you.”
Olivia didn't respond.
Melissa leaned forward.
“What is this?”
“I need to find out.”
“Is my son in danger?”
The question cut through everything else.
Olivia looked at Jordan.
Possibly.
She hated that answer.
“I don't know.”
“That's not good enough.”
“No. It isn't.”
Melissa pushed back from the table.
“Then we're done.”
“Mom.”
“No.”
Jordan frowned.
“She needs it.”
“We need to stay out of whatever this is.”
Olivia understood.
Melissa had a twelve-year-old son.
She was moving between shelters and temporary rooms.
She couldn't afford lawyers or security.
Olivia could.
Melissa's risk was greater precisely because she had less protection.
“I will not involve Jordan publicly without your consent,” Olivia said.
Melissa laughed once.
“You think you control that?”
“No.”
That surprised her.
Olivia continued.
“But I can make sure his name stays out of anything I initiate.”
“You can't promise that.”
“No.”
Another honest answer.
Melissa studied her.
Their breakfasts arrived.
Jordan attacked the pancakes as though he had forgotten he was pretending not to be hungry.
Olivia noticed but said nothing.
She photographed every message.
Then she used her own phone to call her attorney, Rachel Kim.
Rachel answered immediately.
“Olivia?”
“I need you to cancel your morning.”
“Why?”
“I have evidence someone has been tracking me.”
A pause.
“What kind of evidence?”
“Messages.”
“Send nothing electronically yet.”
Olivia looked around the diner.
“Why?”
“If someone has information about your movements, assume your normal communication channels may be compromised until we know otherwise.”
Jordan stopped chewing.
Melissa whispered something under her breath.
Olivia's pulse increased.
“Where should we meet?”
Rachel gave her the address of a law firm's conference space they occasionally used for sensitive matters.
Before hanging up, she said, “Do not confront anyone.”
Olivia knew exactly who she meant.
Evelyn.
“I won't.”
She ended the call.
Jordan wiped syrup from his thumb.
“Are you going to call the police?”
“Probably.”
“You can't give them my mom's name.”
Melissa shot him a look.
“Jordan.”
“What?”
Olivia stared at the phone.
“Before anything happens, I need to know who used this.”
“The nanny.”
“Maybe.”
Jordan's eyes narrowed.
“You still don't believe me?”
“I believe you found the phone. I believe you saw meetings.”
“Same thing.”
“No. It isn't.”
He looked wounded.
Olivia softened her voice.
“Evidence has to survive questions, Jordan. If I accuse Evelyn before I understand this, she can deny it, destroy things or warn whoever she's working with.”
He considered that.
“So you're pretending everything's normal.”
“For now.”
“That's lying.”
“Sometimes investigation looks like lying.”
Melissa almost smiled.
“Careful. He'll quote that back at you.”
Jordan's phone—his mother's old one—buzzed on the table.
He looked at the screen.
His face changed.
“What?” Melissa asked.
He turned it toward Olivia.
Unknown number.
One message.
Give back what you found.
No one spoke.
Melissa grabbed the phone.
“How did they get this number?”
Jordan shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Another message appeared.
This does not concern you.
Melissa stood so fast her coffee spilled.
“We're leaving.”
Olivia stood too.
“Melissa—”
“No. Whatever this is, we're out.”
She pulled Jordan's coat from the booth.
“Mom, wait.”
“No.”
Jordan snatched the disposable phone.
Olivia stopped him.
“I need that.”
He glared.
“So do I.”
“Why?”
“Because they know I have it.”
Melissa grabbed his arm.
“We're going.”
Olivia made a decision.
“Come with me.”
Melissa stared at her.
“To my attorney.”
“No.”
“To somewhere secure.”
“No.”
“At least until we understand how someone got your number.”
Melissa shook her head.
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain it.”
“We can't just disappear into some hotel you pick. I have work at noon. If I miss another shift, I lose it. If I lose it, we lose our placement priority. If Jordan doesn't show at the youth center, they start asking questions. Our lives don't stop because yours got complicated.”
Olivia had no answer.
That was when she understood something simple and ugly.
When wealthy people faced emergencies, money created room around the emergency.
Cars.
Hotels.
Attorneys.
Days off.
People like Melissa had no room.
One missed shift could become a crisis larger than the threat itself.
Jordan looked at Olivia.
“You should see the last message.”
“What last message?”
“Not the one they just sent.”
He reopened the disposable phone.
“There was one from Tuesday night.”
He scrolled.
“I didn't understand it.”
He showed her.
She still thinks Prescott walked because of valuation. Keep it that way. Sloan wants Hayes isolated before the vote.
Olivia read it twice.
Then three times.
“The vote?” Jordan asked.
Olivia barely heard him.
There was only one vote that mattered.
Hayes Capital's board was scheduled to meet in twelve days.
They would decide whether Olivia remained chief executive after the failed Prescott acquisition.
Martin wasn't merely spying.
He was building something.
May you like
And he had been doing it long enough to know exactly where to hurt her.
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