Chapter 6 — Opening Day

Ortiz played the video without sound.

The picture was grainy, but the hallway was mine. A mop bucket stood against the wall beneath the camera. Someone had left a roll of paper towels on the shelf by the delivery door.

At 12:47 a.m., my mother entered wearing a dark raincoat. She moved slowly, one hand braced against the wall.

I had spent the previous day hoping she might have exaggerated what she had done. Watching her cross that hallway took the last of that hope away.

She disappeared beyond the camera’s view.

Seven minutes later, another person came through the delivery door.

The figure wore a hood and kept their head lowered. They crossed the same hallway carrying something narrow in one hand. For less than a second, they tilted their face toward the ceiling.

Ortiz paused the footage before the image cleared.

“Can you identify this person from what you’ve seen so far?” she asked.

“No.”

“Good. Don’t guess.”

She let the recording continue. The second person went after my mother. The hall stayed empty until both came back, moving fast. My mother stumbled at the door. The other figure caught her elbow and pushed her outside.

“What happens next?” I asked.

“The camera loses power a few minutes later.”

Ortiz closed the file. “We’re examining other records as well. This footage matters, but I need you to keep its details to yourself while we work.”

I wanted to see the paused frame again. I wanted to call Evan and tell him I knew. Instead, I asked Ortiz to confirm she had received everything I’d sent, including Natalie’s messages and the sale documents.

“I have,” she said. “And Mr. Cross is aware we may need to speak with him again.”

Outside, I sat in my car until I could trust my hands on the wheel.

Claire called. “Did you see it?”

I had told her I was meeting Ortiz, but not what the camera might show.

“I saw my mother.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Someone else went in.”

She let me sit with that for a moment.

“Priya has Danner’s payment records now,” I said. “He sent the deposit to Evan’s company. Mom told him I was overseas.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to his opening.”

Claire was quiet. “Is that wise?”

“Rosa says half my staff got invitations.”

Evan’s coffee shop was opening Saturday morning, barely a week after my restaurant burned. He had invited people who had worked for me and customers who knew us both. I couldn’t control who showed up, but I could decide how they heard from me.

“I’m not going to fight him,” I said. “I’m going to speak to my people.”

On Friday, I met the staff at the community room behind Rosa’s church. Twenty-two came in person; the others joined by video. I showed them proof that every paycheck had cleared.

Luis raised his hand as though we were still in a staff meeting. “Are you reopening?”

“I want to. I don’t know when.”

“You know who did it?” someone asked.

“The fire is being investigated. I’ve given them what I know.”

I could see disappointment in a few faces. They wanted certainty as badly as I did.

“I asked you here because I owe you the truth about the business,” I said. “The insurance review will take time. I can’t promise anyone a job next month. Rosa has a list of restaurants that are hiring, and I’ll recommend every one of you.”

Luis lowered his hand. “You didn’t have to arrange that.”

“Yes, I did.”

Afterward, Rosa stayed to stack the chairs with me.

“Evan invited me to the opening,” she said.

“Are you going?”

“I told him I was.”

I stopped with a chair in my hands.

“He wanted to know whether I’d heard you were leaving town,” she said. “I told him you had a meeting Saturday morning.”

“What meeting?”

“I let him wonder.”

I laughed, the first real laugh I’d managed all week.

Saturday morning arrived bright and cold. I wore the same navy jacket I had worn when I met the bank about my restaurant loan. In its pocket was a copy of my father’s old photograph, folded at the corner. I had picked it up without thinking when I left home.

Cross Street Coffee occupied a corner storefront with fresh white paint and gold lettering. A line stretched from the register almost to the door. Evan stood behind a row of ribbon-cutting photographs, greeting customers like a man who had built the place with his own hands.

Marianne was beside him.

Natalie stood a few feet away in a cream coat. When she saw me, she moved toward the door, but Evan noticed me first.

“Daniel.” He spread his arms. “I’m glad you came.”

The room grew quieter. Rosa stood near the window with Luis and two servers from my restaurant.

“I came to congratulate you,” I said. “You opened quickly.”

Evan smiled. “When a good opportunity comes along, you take it.”

My mother touched his sleeve. “Let’s keep today pleasant.”

Paul Danner stepped out of the line, holding a paper cup. I had asked him to come, though he hadn’t promised he would.

“Mrs. Mercer,” he said. “Where’s the deposit I paid for your son’s house?”

A few customers turned.

Marianne stared at him. “This is neither the time nor the place.”

“You chose the account it went into.”

Evan set down the pastry tongs he was holding. “That’s between you and her.”

“The account belongs to your company,” Danner said.

Evan glanced at me. “You planned this.”

“I asked Mr. Danner to speak for himself,” I said.

The door opened behind us. Priya came in, carrying a slim folder. She had agreed to meet Danner’s attorney later that day, but when I told her where he intended to ask for his money, she decided to hear the conversation herself.

“Mr. Cross,” she said, “the property transfer is disputed. I’ve sent the records to your attorney. Mr. Danner is entitled to an accounting of the funds his payment went toward.”

Evan’s smile vanished. “My mother handled that.”

Marianne turned to him. “You told me Daniel would never find out.”

A silence opened around us.

Natalie whispered her name. Marianne looked startled, as if she had forgotten where she was.

I could have asked the question I’d been carrying all week. How could you do it? I finally understood that no answer she gave would make the dining room stand again.

Rosa moved to my side. Luis joined her.

Evan saw them and raised his voice. “Daniel’s trying to ruin my opening because his own business failed.”

“My business burned,” I said.

“Accidents happen.”

The door opened again.

Ortiz entered with another investigator. She crossed the shop without looking at me.

“Mr. Cross,” she said, “we need to speak with you about your movements on the night of the restaurant fire.”

Evan glanced at Marianne. Then at Natalie.

“You talked to them?”

Natalie took a step back. “I told them what you said to me.”

Ortiz held up a tablet. “I’d like you to look at a recording.”

Evan didn’t move.

On the screen, Marianne entered the back hallway of my restaurant. A few people near the counter leaned forward. Seven minutes passed in a quick scrub of the timeline. The hooded figure appeared at the delivery door.

Ortiz stopped the video on the frame where the person began to lift their head.

Evan reached for the edge of the counter.

Then Ortiz pressed play.