Part 3:
She settled Lily into the back seat, noting how her daughter clutched her hand with unusual force. “Marcus,” she called before her security chief could enter the follow car. “I want security footage from the mall. Every angle, every second, the police will the police will do their job. I want our own copy and I want to know which hospital they took him to.
Marcus nodded, already pulling out his phone. Clara slid into the Bentley beside Lily, gathering her daughter close. The little girl was quiet, processing trauma in the way children did in fragments, and silence punctuated by unexpected observations. He had kind eyes, Lily said suddenly. Even when he was scared, Clara pressed a kiss to her daughter’s hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her strawberry shampoo, grounding herself in the reality that Lily was here alive whole because of a stranger named Daniel. The
drive to their estate in Westfield took 30 minutes during which Clara fielded calls from her board of directors, her ex-husband in London, and her mother in Florida. News traveled fast in their circles, especially news involving the attempted murder of one of the state’s most prominent business leaders, children.
She kept the calls brief, her responses automatic, her mind elsewhere. The Georgian mansion rose before them like a fortress, all brick and ivy, and old money solidity. Clare had bought it after the divorce, needing something that felt permanent in a life that had suddenly become unmed. 22 rooms for two people seemed excessive, but the security was excellent, or had seemed so until today.
Mrs. Donovan, Helena. Their housekeeper met them at the door, her usually composed face etched with worry. I saw the news. Is Miss Lily? She’s fine, Clara said, though fine was a relative term. Could you draw her a bath? Use the lavender bubbles. Of course, come little one. But Lily clung tighter to Clara’s hand.
I want to stay with you. I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart, but you need to get cleaned up. I’ll be right here when you’re done. It took several more minutes of coaxing before Lily agreed to go with Helena, and only after Clara promised to sit outside the bathroom door. As soon as her daughter was out of sight, Clara sagged against the wall, the adrenaline finally abandoning her to leave only exhaustion and a rage so profound it made her hands shake. Her phone buzzed.
Marcus Daniel Hayes, he said without preamble, 35 years old, single father son named Ethan, age 8, works warehouse at Morrison Logistics Night Shift primarily. Address is 42B Elm Street South District. That’s the Riverside Apartments. Clara knew the area. It was the kind of neighborhood people like her drove around not through. Financial status.
Checking account shows $247. Savings empty. Currently 3 days late on rent. Has been late four of the last 6 months. Credit cards maxed. No criminal record. Clean driving record except for two parking tickets. Both paid late with penalties. The picture forming made Clara’s chest tight. A single father struggling to make ends meet the kind of invisible person her driver probably passed a dozen times without her noticing from the back of her Bentley.
family. The mother Sarah Hayes, deceased 3 years, cancer. Medical bills went to collections settled for partial payment last year. No other family in state. Clara closed her eyes. Of course, because the universe wasn’t satisfied with giving this man poverty and single parenthood, it had to add grief and medical debt to the equation.
Military service, Marcus continued, and his tone shifted slightly. This is where it gets interesting. Army 2007 to 2015. Three tours in Afghanistan. Bronze Star Purple Heart Army Commenation Medal with Valor. Honorable Discharge as Staff Sergeant. Specialized in urban combat and close protection.
Close protection? You mean bodyguard detail for high-v value targets. He protected diplomats in military brass and active war zones. Marcus paused. Ma’am, this man was trained to do exactly what he did today. But that didn’t explain why he’d done it. Training didn’t make you take a bullet for a stranger. Training taught you to assess, evaluate, prioritize.
A single father should have prioritized staying alive for his own child. Which hospital? St. Mary’s. He’s in surgery. The bullet did significant muscle damage but missed the major arteries. Prognosis is good. I want the best orthopedic surgeon in the state on his case. ma’am with respect that might be seen as I don’t care how it’s seen make it happen and Marcus the son Ethan where is he more phone work with a neighbor Mrs.
Chen. Father was supposed to pick him up at 6:00. Clara looked at her watch. 4:47 p.m. In just over an hour, an 8-year-old boy would start wondering why his father wasn’t there. By 7:00, he’d be worried. By 8, terrified. Send someone to inform them about what happened. Carefully. Make sure the boy knows his father is going to be okay.
That’s not really our Marcus. I’m going to say this once. That man’s blood is on the floor of Grand View Mall because he chose my daughter’s life over his own. There is nothing nothing that is not our responsibility when it comes to him and his family. Am I clear? Yes, ma’am. Clara ended the call and slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor of her mansion’s marble foyer.
From the bathroom upstairs, she could hear Lily’s voice asking Helena about Daniel wondering if he liked strawberry ice cream or vanilla better. The house phone rang. Clara ignored it. It rang again. Then her cell. Then Marcus calling. Ma’am, you need to take this. It’s Channel 7 News. Someone leaked cell phone footage from the mall.
