Part 11:

He didn’t answer. The first customer of the day was supposed to be at 9:00. An oil change, simple job. But 9 came and went. So did 10. By 11, Ethan realized no one was coming. His phone had seven missed appointments. No explanations, just silence. At noon, Danny Reeves showed up, not with his mom’s car, but on foot, looking nervous. “Hey, Mr. Cross.

” “Danny, your mom’s car okay?” “Yeah, it’s fine.” Danny shoved his hands in his pockets. “I just wanted to say thanks for everything you’ve been doing. My mom saw the news. She said, “You’re a good man.” Tell her I appreciate that. Also, Danny hesitated. My uncle owns the hardware store downtown.

 He said, “Some people are talking about boycotting your shop because you’re causing trouble for Celeste Motors.” Ethan felt something cold settle in his chest. Celeste Motors doesn’t even have a facility in Brier Glenn. I know, but a lot of people here used to work for them back when they had the plant 30 mi north before it closed.

Danny looked uncomfortable. They’re saying you’re trying to destroy the company, that you’re hurting working people. I’m trying to stop people from getting killed. I know that. My mom knows that, but Danny trailed off. Just thought you should know what people are saying. After Danny left, Ethan sat in the empty garage and did the math.

 If people stopped bringing him their cars, how long could he survive? 2 months? Three? The bills didn’t stop. Rent, food, Maya’s needs, the credit card debt he’d been slowly chipping away at. His phone rang. This time it was Celeste. Are you okay? She asked. Define. Okay. I saw the news vans outside your shop on the morning broadcast.

 They’re still out there. I’m sorry. I knew this would be bad, but I didn’t anticipate how quickly Kavanaaugh’s team would mobilize. She sounded tired. He’s playing the victim, acting like I’m settling a personal vendetta. Are people believing it? Some are. The stock dropped another 18% this morning. I’ve had three board members call asking me to reconsider and my lawyer says Kavanaaugh’s team is preparing to file a wrongful termination suit.

 Can they win? Not if the evidence holds up, but they can drag it out, make it expensive, keep the story alive. She paused. How’s Maya handling this? She doesn’t know yet. She’s six. She doesn’t watch the news. Someone at school will say something. I know. That was the part keeping Ethan up at night.

 I’m trying to figure out how to explain it to her. Tell her the truth. That you did the right thing even though it was hard. She’s sick, Celeste. She doesn’t care about right and wrong. She cares about why her dad’s on TV and why people are parked outside our house. Celeste was quiet for a moment. I have a place, a house upstate about 3 hours from Brier Glenn.

 It’s private, gated, secure. If you need somewhere to go for a while, I’m not running. It’s not running. It’s protecting your daughter from media harassment. No thanks, but no, we stay here. After they hung up, Ethan walked to the front of the shop and looked at the news vans. The reporters were leaning against their vehicles, drinking coffee, waiting.

 One of them saw him and raised a camera. Ethan stepped back inside. His phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number. He almost deleted it without reading, but something made him open it. The message was a photo. It showed Maya at school, visible through the chainlink fence during recess. She was on the swings laughing at something.

 The photo was zoomed in, taken from outside the school grounds. Below the photo, cute kid. Would be a shame if something happened. Ethan’s vision went red. His hand shook so badly he almost dropped the phone. He immediately forwarded it to Rebecca Marsh, then called her. I just got a death threat against my daughter. What? Send it to me now.

 I already did. Okay. Okay. Listen to me. Call the police. File a report. Get a copy of it. Then call the school. Make sure they know not to release Maya to anyone except you or Mrs. Patterson. And Ethan. Don’t go after whoever sent this. I know you want to, but don’t. That’s what they want. He called the police.

 A deputy showed up 40 minutes later, took his statement, looked at the photo. The deputy was young, maybe 25, and seemed out of his depth. We’ll investigate, the deputy said. But these things are hard to trace. Burner phones usually. What about the school? Can you send someone to watch? We don’t really have the manpower for full-time security, Mr.

Cross. But we’ll increase patrols in the area. After the deputy left, Ethan called Mia’s school. The principal, Mrs. Henderson, answered on the third ring. Mr. Cross, I was actually about to call you. We’ve had reporters trying to get onto school property this morning. We turned them away, but I wanted you to know.

 Ethan’s grip on the phone tightened. There’s more. I just got a threat. Someone photographed Maya during recess from outside the fence. Mrs. Henderson’s voice went cold. Send me that photo. We’re locking down the playground immediately. And I’ll make sure every staff member knows that Maya goes home with only you or Mrs. Patterson. No exceptions. Thank you.

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