Chapter 2 - The Man Holding Elodie
Brielle pushed open the office door.
“Give me my baby.”
Everett Calloway looked up.
He was seventy-two, silver-haired and usually dressed with the precision of a man who had never spilled sauce on his own cuffs.
That evening, his tie was loosened.
His eyes were tired.
Elodie slept against him as though she had known him for years.
“She’s safe,” he said.
“You took her.”
“No.”
Brielle crossed the room.
Her hands shook as she reached for Elodie.
Everett stood carefully and transferred the baby into her arms.
The instant Brielle felt her daughter’s weight, her knees weakened.
She held Elodie against her chest and breathed in the familiar scent of formula and baby shampoo.
“Who brought her here?”
Everett’s gaze moved toward the doorway.
Rochelle stood there.
Behind her were two kitchen supervisors and several curious employees.
Rochelle answered.
“I found the child abandoned in a storage room.”
“She was not abandoned.”
“You left her alone.”
“I checked on her.”
Rochelle smiled coldly.
“Every mother says that after something happens.”
Everett studied her.
“How did the baby reach my office?”
Rochelle’s smile faded.
“I carried her downstairs so she would be safe.”
“Why did you not contact Brielle immediately?”
“I was trying to locate you.”
“My office phone works.”
Rochelle said nothing.
Everett looked at the small camera above the office bookshelf.
Then toward the hallway.
“Security can answer the rest.”
Rochelle’s face stiffened.
Brielle had forgotten the cameras.
Harbor & Ash used them around storage areas because expensive wine, silverware and specialty ingredients had disappeared months earlier.
No cameras faced private changing spaces.
But the service hallway, stairs and office entrance were recorded.
Everett pressed a button on his desk.
A security officer arrived minutes later with a tablet.
The footage showed Rochelle entering the linen room at 4:48.
She stood over Elodie for nearly a minute.
Then she took several photographs.
At 4:53, she carried the baby down to Everett’s office.
But Everett was not there.
Rochelle placed Elodie on the leather sofa, left the door partly open and walked away.
The baby remained alone for eleven minutes.
Everett returned at 5:04, found her crying and picked her up.
Rochelle had not rescued Elodie from danger.
She had moved the baby into a forbidden office, left her there and waited for Brielle to discover the empty blanket.
“You staged this,” Brielle whispered.
Rochelle folded her arms.
“I documented negligence.”
“You left an infant alone in a basement office.”
“For a few minutes.”
“You just condemned me for doing the same thing.”
“That was different.”
“Why?”
Rochelle’s eyes hardened.
“Because I was correcting your mistake.”
Everett turned to security.
“Preserve the footage.”
Then he looked at Rochelle.
“You are suspended pending investigation.”
Her mouth opened.
“You cannot be serious.”
“I am.”
“She violated policy.”
“So did you.”
Rochelle pointed at Brielle.
“She brought a baby into a professional kitchen.”
Everett’s voice remained calm.
“And you moved that baby, photographed her and left her unattended to manufacture evidence.”
“I was protecting the restaurant.”
“No.”
He looked directly at her.
“You were protecting a plan.”
That word changed the room.
Plan.
Rochelle’s satisfaction disappeared.
Brielle noticed a message glowing on Rochelle’s phone.
She could not read the whole screen.
Only the sender.
Gavin Dawson.
Her ex-husband.
Then the message preview appeared.
Did you get the pictures? Mom is bringing the papers.
Brielle’s stomach dropped.
Rochelle snatched the phone away.
Too late.
Everett had seen it too.
“Who is Gavin?” he asked.
“My daughter’s father,” Brielle said.
Her voice barely worked.
Rochelle reached for her purse.
“I’m leaving.”
Security blocked the door.
“You may leave after company property is secured,” Everett said. “Your phone is personal, but you are instructed not to delete work-related communication.”
“You have no right.”
“Then your attorney may explain that.”
As if summoned by the word attorney, footsteps sounded on the stairs.
A man appeared first.
Tall.
Dark coat.
Confident smile.
Gavin Dawson.
Behind him came his mother, Lenora, carrying a leather folder.
Gavin looked at Elodie.
Then at the employees filling the hallway.
His smile widened.
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“Perfect,” he said.
“Plenty of witnesses.”
