Chapter 3 - The Red Mitten
The next morning, I arrived at Callaway's early.
Reed was already there.
He was standing beside Ava's crib.
She was awake.
He was holding a bottle.
Badly.
“She's rejecting it,” I said.
He looked irritated.
“I noticed.”
“You're holding it upside down.”
He stared at the bottle.
Then at me.
“I was never trained for this.”
I smiled before I could stop myself.
It was the first time I'd smiled around him.
He noticed.
Something passed between us.
Then Ava laughed.
Reed looked down at her.
For a moment, the terrifying man everyone whispered about simply looked like a man who had forgotten what happiness felt like.
I stepped closer.
“She likes you.”
“She has poor judgment.”
“She likes me too.”
“Your judgment is questionable as well.”
I laughed.
Reed looked at me.
Neither of us spoke.
Then Tommy entered.
The moment was gone.
“We found Daniel Cross.”
My heart stopped.
Reed's expression hardened.
“Where?”
“Dead.”
I felt the room tilt.
“What?”
Tommy looked at me.
“His body was found six weeks ago outside Phoenix.”
I stared.
“No.”
Reed caught my arm.
“Sit down.”
“He called me three months ago.”
“When?”
“September.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he wanted to see Ava.”
Reed exchanged a look with Tommy.
Then he asked:
“Did he know where you lived?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell him?”
“No.”
“Then he already knew.”
I looked at Ava.
“Why would he watch us?”
Reed didn't answer.
Tommy placed an envelope on the table.
Inside was Daniel's death certificate.
Then another photograph.
Daniel had been found carrying an old photograph.
A photograph of me.
And Reed.
Together.
At a playground.
I stared at it.
I didn't remember the picture.
But Reed did.
“You were twelve,” he said quietly.
I looked at him.
“You knew me?”
He nodded.
“You don't remember?”
I shook my head.
“Your father had just died.”
My breath caught.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I was there.”
He told me the story.
Fourteen years earlier, his father had been negotiating a business dispute with my father.
My father had been a small contractor.
Honest.
Ordinary.
He had discovered that someone was laundering money through his company.
Two weeks later, he died in what police called an accidental car crash.
Reed had been nineteen.
He didn't know the truth then.
But he remembered me.
A frightened twelve-year-old girl sitting alone outside a church.
“I gave you my red mitten,” he said.
I stared at him.
Something inside my memory moved.
A boy.
Dark hair.
Kind eyes.
A red mitten.
“You were the boy.”
“Yes.”
I whispered:
“I remembered the mitten.”
His expression changed.
“You did?”
“I remembered you.”
Silence filled the room.
Then Ava began crying.
I turned toward her.
Reed did too.
We reached her crib at exactly the same time.
Our hands touched.
Neither moved.
Then Tommy cleared his throat.
“Boss.”
Reed stepped back.
“What?”
“There is another problem.”
Tommy handed him a file.
“Daniel Cross wasn't killed by accident.”
Reed opened it.
“Someone staged the crash.”
I looked at him.
“Who?”
Tommy's answer was quiet.
“Someone inside the Callaway organization.”
Reed's face became ice.
Then he looked at me.
“From now on, you and Ava don't leave this building alone.”
I should have argued.
Instead, I asked:
“Why?”
May you like
Reed closed the file.
“Because whoever killed Daniel knows exactly who you are.”
