Chapter 2 - The Paper Trail in the Snow
The moment the name left Sadie's lips, Grant’s mental database clicked into place. Clara Monroe had been a senior inventory auditor at Halden Foods' regional distribution center in Akron. Three weeks ago, a summary report had crossed his desk stating she had been terminated for gross negligence and suspected theft of company inventory valued at over forty thousand dollars.
Grant had signed off on the termination recommendation without a second thought. It was a standard corporate filing, backed by signature approvals from his head of regional operations, Richard Sterling, and human resources.
"Sadie, wait," Grant said, stepping around the counter.
"No!" Sadie cried out. Fear overwhelmed her. She pushed through the heavy diner door and ran out into the biting winter wind, clutching the paper bag of soup tightly against her thin purple jacket.
"Sir, leave the kid alone!" Beth shouted from behind the counter, reaching for the phone.
"I'm not going to hurt her, I swear to God!" Grant called back, pulling two hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and throwing them on the counter. "Call a cab for yourself if you need to, but I have to make sure that child gets home safe!"
Grant burst out into the swirling snow. The cold air hit his lungs like needles. Fifty yards ahead, Sadie’s bright purple jacket was a small speck moving quickly down the slick sidewalk. She was slipping slightly on the icy pavement, her duct-taped sneaker struggling for traction.
Grant didn't sprint—he didn't want to terrify her into running into the busy street—but he kept a fast, steady pace, keeping her in sight.
Sadie turned down a side alley, then crossed a narrow street into a dilapidated neighborhood of old brick apartment buildings. Paint peeled from the porches, and rusted cars sat buried under grey mounds of plowed snow.
She scrambled up the concrete steps of a three-story brick building with a broken front entry door. Grant reached the base of the steps just as the heavy wooden door slammed shut behind her.
He pushed the door open. The hallway smelled of damp wood, old radiator heat, and stale cooking odors. The building was dead silent except for the quick, light thud of small footsteps echoing up the uncarpeted wooden stairs.
Grant followed quietly, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached the third floor. At the far end of the dim corridor, Apartment 3B stood slightly ajar.
He approached the door cautiously. Through the narrow crack, he heard a faint, rasping voice.
"Sadie...? Where were you, baby? I told you to stay inside..."
"I got soup, Mommy," Sadie’s soft voice replied. "Warm chicken soup."
"Sadie... where did you get money for soup?"
Grant pushed the door open another inch.
The apartment was freezing. A small electric space heater sat in the corner, its coils glowing faint orange, completely failing to warm the sparse room. On a worn mattress on the floor, wrapped in two faded blankets, lay a young woman. Her face was flushed bright red with fever, her eyes dark-rimmed and sunken.
Clara Monroe looked up as the door creaked open further. When her eyes fell on the tall man in the expensive charcoal overcoat standing in her doorway, her eyes widened in sudden, absolute terror.
She tried to push herself up on her elbows, shielding Sadie behind her back. "Who are you? How did you find us?"
Grant pulled off his leather gloves and took a step into the room, keeping his hands visible. "Mrs. Monroe... my name is Grant Halden."
Clara went completely still. The color drained from what little warmth remained in her feverish face. "You..." she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of rage and terror. "You came here yourself? To take the rest?"
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"No," Grant said firmly. "I came because your daughter was trying to buy you a bowl of soup with one dollar and eighty-four cents."
Clara looked down at Sadie, who was holding the brown paper bag like a shield. Tears filled Clara's eyes. "Grant Halden... you ruined my life. You signed the paper that labeled me a thief. Now please... get out of my home."
