Chapter 5 - Howard Knew What He Saw
Howard Mills had once walked three miles through a snowstorm to cover my shift because my mother was in the emergency room.
He had refused to let me pay him back.
“Someday,” he told me, “you’ll help somebody else.”
Now his apartment had blood on the floor.
Because of a night we had shared.
Because of Lucas.
Because of me.
“I’m going there.”
“No,” Lucas said.
The SUV had barely stopped outside the hotel.
I turned.
“Howard could be hurt.”
“Police are already there.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
The words came too quickly.
We both went quiet.
Lucas looked away first.
Rebecca pretended not to notice.
“We should let detectives handle it,” she said.
“He saved Lucas too.”
“I know.”
“He took over CPR.”
“I know.”
“He knows what happened.”
Lucas looked back at me.
“That may be why he’s missing.”
Exactly.
Which was why sitting inside some luxury hotel felt impossible.
“I’m going.”
Lucas sighed.
“Then so am I.”
“You’re supposed to be in a hospital.”
“You’re supposed to be in protective housing.”
Rebecca rubbed her forehead.
“I hate both of you.”
Twenty minutes later, we were outside Howard’s brick apartment building on the Northwest Side.
Police tape blocked the third-floor hallway.
Detective Ruiz came toward us.
Her face said she had expected me.
Her mouth said otherwise.
“What are you doing here?”
“I need to know if he’s alive.”
“So do we.”
“Was it a lot of blood?”
“Bailey.”
“Please.”
Ruiz softened slightly.
“Not enough to assume fatal injury.”
Relief barely registered.
“Signs of struggle?”
“Yes.”
“Robbery?”
“No.”
Lucas stepped forward.
“What was taken?”
“Laptop.”
Howard barely knew how to send an email.
“Why would anyone steal his laptop?”
Ruiz looked at me.
“That’s what we’d like to know.”
I suddenly remembered something.
“His camera.”
“What?”
“Howard wears a little body camera on night shifts.”
Lucas frowned.
“Security guards at Meridian don’t use body cameras.”
“They don’t officially.”
Ruiz leaned closer.
“Explain.”
“About six months ago, Howard got accused of sleeping at his desk. He said management was trying to push older guards out before they qualified for full retirement.”
Lucas’s expression darkened.
“He started wearing a cheap camera so he could prove he was working.”
“Every shift?” Ruiz asked.
“Most.”
“Did anyone know?”
“Me.”
A pause.
“And Darlene.”
Ruiz immediately called another officer.
Lucas looked sick.
“Someone attacked a sixty-two-year-old man because of something my company did.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
His voice hardened.
“But I’m beginning to understand how little I know about what happens in the building with my name on it.”
That sentence stayed with me.
Power could make you visible.
It could also make everyone beneath you disappear.
Lucas had built forty-five floors and apparently never noticed how much happened after he went home.
We waited downstairs while police searched.
Eventually Ruiz returned carrying a small plastic evidence bag.
Inside was a memory card.
I stared.
“From his camera?”
“Found taped under his nightstand.”
Lucas exhaled.
“Howard hid it.”
Ruiz nodded.
“Which means he was afraid someone would come looking.”
She walked away to have it processed.
I wrapped my arms around myself.
Lucas stood beside me.
“You’re freezing.”
“I’m fine.”
He took off his coat.
“No.”
“Bailey.”
“You’re injured.”
“My ribs are broken, not my arms.”
He put the coat around my shoulders before I could stop him.
It smelled faintly like cedar and hospital disinfectant.
I hated how safe it felt.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We stood quietly.
Then I asked the question I had been avoiding.
“Do you have family?”
Lucas stared toward the street.
“A sister in Seattle.”
“Parents?”
“Gone.”
“Wife?”
He paused.
“No.”
Something in that no contained history.
I didn’t ask.
“Anyone who came to the hospital?”
“My sister is flying in.”
“And nobody else?”
He looked at me.
“You’re wondering why the billionaire almost died alone in an elevator.”
I felt embarrassed.
“I wasn’t—”
“You were.”
He smiled faintly.
“I was engaged once.”
“Once?”
“She died five years ago.”
My breath caught.
“I’m sorry.”
“Drunk driver.”
There are certain kinds of grief you recognize immediately.
The people who carry them don’t need to explain.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated.
Lucas nodded.
“Her name was Emily.”
I suddenly understood the empty mansion I imagined.
The long nights at the office.
The man who had everything except someone waiting for him.
“Maybe that’s why I heard you.”
His brows pulled together.
“What?”
“When I was doing CPR.”
“I kept saying somebody needs you to come home.”
Lucas looked away.
“You did?”
“Yes.”
A sad smile appeared.
“No one did.”
The words hurt more than they should have.
Before I could respond, Detective Ruiz came back.
“We have footage.”
We followed her to an unmarked police vehicle where a laptop had been set up.
The body camera video was shaky.
Timestamp: 11:39 p.m.
Howard sat at his security desk reading a newspaper.
Then the executive elevator opened.
A man stepped out.
Baseball cap.
Dark coat.
Face partially hidden.
Lucas leaned toward the screen.
“Pause.”
Ruiz froze the image.
“Know him?”
“No.”
The footage resumed.
The man walked toward the service corridor.
Howard called after him.
“Sir? Executive floor is restricted.”
The man stopped.
He turned slightly.
His face remained hidden.
Then he held up a badge.
Howard leaned forward.
“Mr. Reeves sent you?”
Every person in the car stopped breathing.
The man answered.
“Yes.”
Malcolm.
Ruiz replayed it.
Mr. Reeves sent you?
Yes.
The man disappeared around the corner.
Six minutes later, Howard stood and walked toward the elevators.
Then Bailey appeared in the distant hallway.
Me.
Pushing my cart.
The camera captured me stopping.
Captured me leaning into the elevator.
Captured my cleaning bottle falling.
Then came my scream.
“Help!”
My hand flew to my mouth.
I had never heard fear sound like that.
Howard ran.
The image bounced violently as he reached me.
The camera caught everything.
My hands on Lucas’s chest.
The compressions.
My voice counting.
The AED.
My tears.
“You don’t get to die. Not while I’m here.”
I looked away.
Lucas didn’t.
His face had gone still.
On-screen Howard gasped.
“Bailey, switch!”
Then something strange happened.
As Howard knelt, his body camera pointed down the hallway.
A figure appeared near the service corridor.
Watching us.
The same man.
He stood there for perhaps four seconds.
Then disappeared.
“He stayed,” Ruiz whispered.
Lucas nodded.
“To see if I died.”
My skin crawled.
Ruiz froze the image and enlarged it.
The picture pixelated.
But something was visible on the man’s hand.
A ring.
Lucas leaned closer.
“Zoom in.”
Ruiz did.
Silver.
Square face.
Dark center.
Lucas’s expression changed.
“You recognize it?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Lucas?”
Rebecca whispered, “Oh, my God.”
“What?”
Lucas sat back.
“That ring was custom-made.”
“For who?”
“Meridian’s original executive team.”
My heart started pounding.
“How many?”
“Seven.”
“How many still work for you?”
Lucas stared at the frozen image.
“Three.”
Rebecca.
Malcolm.
And one other man.
“Who?” Ruiz asked.
Lucas answered.
“Daniel Kessler. Chairman of the board.”
I knew that name.
Everyone in Chicago knew that name.
Daniel Kessler had buildings, foundations, university halls, charity wings.
His face was in newspapers shaking hands with governors.
Lucas looked at Ruiz.
“Kessler and Malcolm recruited me when Meridian had six employees and one borrowed office.”
“Could that ring have been stolen?”
“Yes.”
“But you don’t believe that.”
“No.”
Ruiz shut the laptop.
“We’ll bring them both in.”
Lucas caught her arm.
“Don’t.”
She stared at him.
“You don’t give police instructions.”
“If Kessler is involved and realizes you have this footage, Howard dies.”
That silenced everyone.
My stomach turned.
Lucas continued.
“They need to believe Howard’s camera was taken with the laptop.”
Ruiz studied him.
Then slowly nodded.
“You may be right.”
“Find Howard first.”
“We’re trying.”
I looked at the memory card.
Howard had hidden it because he knew.
Maybe he had seen more.
Maybe he had been planning to tell me.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
I ignored it.
It vibrated again.
And again.
Finally I looked.
A text message.
No words.
Just a photograph.
Howard.
Sitting in a chair.
Blood dried across his forehead.
Alive.
My knees nearly gave out.
“Lucas.”
Everyone turned.
I showed him the phone.
Below the photograph was one sentence.
May you like
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT THE OLD MAN TO LIVE.
And beneath that was an address.
