Chapter 35 - The City Turned Against Them
By afternoon, half of Grand Rapids seemed to have an opinion about Graham Foster.
Some called him a hero.
Others called him a fraud.
Social media did what it did best.
It took fragments of information, stripped away context, added outrage, and multiplied everything by a thousand.
Foundation House donors called asking questions.
Two suspended contributions.
One corporate partner canceled its apprenticeship contract.
Parents of three students picked up their children.
Mara stood in the lobby watching empty chairs.
“This is exactly what they wanted.”
Graham looked at the television.
“Yes.”
“To isolate us.”
“Yes.”
“And Eli is out there alone.”
Graham grabbed his coat.
Sloan entered.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“I’m finding him.”
“So are the police.”
“He won't trust police.”
“He trusts you?”
Graham stopped.
That hurt because he didn't know.
Arthur entered carrying an old brown jacket.
Graham recognized it.
His jacket.
The one Graham had worn as a sixteen-year-old.
Arthur had apparently kept that too.
“Where did you find that?”
“Attic.”
Arthur handed it over.
Graham stared at the frayed sleeves.
“You were wearing this the night I drove you to the bus station.”
Mara understood first.
“Where did you go when you were scared?”
Graham looked at Arthur.
The answer came immediately.
“The station.”
Twenty minutes later, Graham and Mara entered Grand Rapids’ downtown transit terminal.
The building had been renovated since 1994.
Different seats.
Different lights.
Same smell of diesel and coffee.
They found Eli behind the building near a loading platform.
He sat against a concrete wall.
Graham did not approach too quickly.
“I spent a night in a bus station once.”
Eli looked up.
“I know.”
Graham sat beside him.
Mara remained a few yards away.
“You lied,” Eli said.
“About what?”
“You said I was safe.”
“I said nobody was putting you in a car that day.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
Eli glared.
Graham continued.
“Safe doesn't mean nothing bad happens.”
“Then what does it mean?”
“It means when something bad happens, you don't face it alone.”
Eli looked away.
“That sounds like something from a poster.”
“I hate inspirational posters.”
That earned a weak smile.
Graham took off the old brown jacket.
He placed it beside Eli.
“I wore that when I was sixteen.”
Eli touched the sleeve.
“Ugly.”
“Extremely.”
“You were homeless?”
“For a while.”
“You were rich later.”
“Much later.”
“How?”
“Bad coffee. Construction. Navy. School. Stubbornness.”
Eli looked at him.
“You ever want to disappear?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
Eli laughed once.
Then his eyes filled.
“My sister didn't overdose.”
Graham waited.
“I know it.”
“Then we'll prove what happened.”
“How?”
“One fact at a time.”
Eli looked toward Mara.
“She really your fiancée?”
“Yes.”
“She seems smarter than you.”
“Everyone says that.”
Mara shouted from nearby.
“Because everyone is right!”
Eli smiled for real.
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
He froze.
Graham held out his hand.
“Speaker.”
Eli answered.
A man’s voice spoke.
“You have something belonging to us.”
Eli’s face drained.
“Who is this?”
“You want to know what happened to Rachel?”
Graham’s entire body became still.
The caller continued.
“Ask Graham Foster to bring her flash drive to the old Bridgewell building tomorrow night.”
Graham looked at Mara.
The voice lowered.
“And tell the engineer this time there will be no federal agents hiding behind concrete walls.”
The call ended.
Eli stared at the phone.
Graham stood.
“Good.”
Mara looked at him.
“Good?”
“We needed them to make contact.”
Eli swallowed.
“What now?”
May you like
Graham’s expression hardened.
“Now we stop letting them choose the battlefield.”
