CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE MORNING AFTER

Jake woke at ten to repeated knocks on his apartment door.
His sister Tessa stood in the hallway holding two coffees and a newspaper.
“You made the local news,” she said.
Jake rubbed his eyes.
“For getting fired?”
“For helping pull a school bus off a flooded road.”
The article showed a photograph of the yellow bus at the weigh station.
Jake appeared in the background carrying traction boards.
His name was spelled incorrectly.
He laughed despite himself.
Tessa did not laugh.
“Mom would have been proud,” she said.
Jake looked down at the coffee.


Their mother had spent years driving neighbors to medical appointments in a car that rarely started on the first try.
She had died the previous spring after a short illness.
Jake had taken extra shifts to cover the bills left behind.
He had not told Tessa how close he was to missing rent.
“I need a job,” he said.
“Then we’ll find you one.”
Tessa sat at his kitchen table and opened her laptop.
Before she could search, Jake’s phone rang.
Mara Chen was calling.
“We found something you should know,” she said.
“Is Owen safe?”
“He’s with his mother.

”
Jake relaxed.
“What happened?”
“Russell’s truck was found abandoned near the old packing plant.”
“Was he arrested?”
“Not yet.”
Mara paused.
“The sheriff wants to speak with you about the transportation company.”
Jake looked at Tessa.
He had expected the night to end when the children went home.
Instead, the storm had uncovered a problem that had been waiting for years.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: THE PACKING PLANT

The old packing plant stood beyond the railroad crossing on the south edge of town.
Its windows had been boarded over after a fire damaged the loading dock.
Jake had delivered food there twice when Russell’s company still used the building.


He told the deputy that the workers had waited inside a fenced yard until a driver called their names.
At the time, he had assumed they were waiting for transportation to the fields.
The deputy asked whether he had seen anyone prevented from leaving.
“No,” Jake answered.
“But I heard Russell tell one man that his phone would be returned after the shift.”
The deputy wrote that down.
“Do you know the man’s name?”
“No.”
“Can you describe him?”
Jake tried.
He remembered a green jacket, a red cap, and a tired face.
He did not pretend to remember more.


The deputy thanked him for being careful.
Mara waited outside the station.
“Did they believe you?” she asked.
“They listened,” Jake said.
“That’s different.”
She nodded.
“It is.”
Gideon sat in the passenger seat of her van.
He had changed into dry clothes and was drinking tea from a thermos.
“We need help with a community meal tomorrow,” he said.
Jake hesitated.
“Are you offering me a job?”
“A paid shift,” Gideon answered.
“We serve people waiting for the bridge to reopen.”
“I don’t want charity.”
“Then work the shift and collect your pay.”
Jake considered it.
“What’s the rate?”
Gideon named an hourly wage higher than the diner’s.


“Who handles the kitchen?” Jake asked.
“A retired school cook who terrifies everyone,” Mara said.
Jake smiled.
“Then I should fit right in.”