Darlene placed more French toast on the table, her movements anxious. Maybe both approaches could work together. Geo's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. The person who doctored that video, they'll have connections, patterns. One conversation with them could save weeks of paperwork.
You mean threaten them? Malik said flatly. I mean persuade them to reconsider their loyalty to Sheriff Benton. Geo corrected. People like that respond to pressure points.
No. Malik's voice was firm. We do this clean. If we fight dirty, we're no better than them. A small smile touched Geo's lips.
You sound like your mother. He leaned forward, his presence filling the small kitchen. But consider this. While you rally public support, I can gather information through my channels. No threats, no violence, just strategic conversations.
Malik studied his father's face, searching for deception. You'll stay in the background? Like a shadow, Geo promised. You lead the charge. I'll be your insurance policy.
After breakfast, Malik met Ms. Avery and Rosa at the Daily Grind, a coffee shop far enough from school to avoid unwanted attention. The place smelled of roasted beans and cinnamon, with local art covering exposed brick walls. Ms. Avery looked tired, dark circles under her eyes.
She glanced around before pulling a Manila envelope from her bag. I probably shouldn't be showing you these, she said quietly. But you need to know what you're up against. Rosa leaned in as Malik opened the envelope. Inside were printed emails between Superintendent Hayes, Principal Wexler, and someone named Caleb Halford.
Malik's eyes widened as he read. They're talking about using incidents to push for charter conversion, Ms. Avery explained. Halford's a developer. He's been buying up property around town.
Look at this. Rosa pointed to one email. Security concerns could fast-track the process. They were waiting for something like this to happen. Malik's hands tightened on the papers.
They planned this? Maybe not specifically, Ms. Avery said. But they were ready to use whatever happened. The bell above the shop door chimed.
Leon Griggs shuffled in, his janitor's keys jingling softly at his hip. He ordered a coffee, then made his way to their table with deliberate casualness. Thought I might find you here, he said quietly, settling into an empty chair. His aged eyes held decades of witnessed injustice. There's something you should know about those security cameras.
Malik leaned forward. What about them? Sheriff's deputies come by sometimes before games or rallies. They check the angles, adjust things. Leon's weathered hands wrapped around his coffee cup.
Always seemed odd to me. So I started keeping track of when they'd visit and what happened after. And? Rosa prompted. Fights break out in those spots.
Like clockwork. Leon's voice was barely above a whisper. But the cameras never quite catch how they start. Malik thought of the edited footage that made him look like the aggressor. They're rigging the system.
Been that way since before you were born, Leon said. Different faces, same game. They spent another hour reviewing the emails, making notes, building their case. Ms. Avery marked key passages that showed the pattern.
Rosa researched Halford's other development projects, finding a trail of suspicious school conversions. When they finally packed up to leave, Malik felt energized despite the weight of what they'd learned. He had evidence now, real proof of corruption. His father's connections wouldn't be necessary after all. Outside, the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the parking lot.
Malik shouldered his backpack, mind already racing with next steps. A patrol car crept past the coffee shop, moving slower than normal traffic. Through the tinted window, Malik could feel the deputy's eyes following his every movement, but he kept walking, head high. The evidence in his backpack felt like it was burning a hole through the fabric. But for the first time since the fight, Malik knew he had more than just his word against theirs.
He had proof, and soon everyone would see it. Back at home, Malik sat at the kitchen table, still processing everything they'd learned at the coffee shop. Darlene paced the living room, her fingers twisting nervously as Geo reviewed the emails Ms. Avery had given them. "There's something else you need to see," Darlene said suddenly, stopping her pacing.
She disappeared into her bedroom and returned with a thick black ledger, its corners worn smooth from handling. "I didn't think it was important before, but now Malik leaned forward. "What is it? " "Two years ago, I did bookkeeping for Caleb Halford. " Darlene set the ledger down, her hand resting on its cover. "There were these payments I couldn't quite make sense of, going to Cedar River Security. " Geo's expression Cedar River? That's run by Benton's cousin, Marcus.
I thought Halford was just moving money around for property taxes, Darlene continued, opening the ledger to show columns of neat figures. You know how developers do. But look at the amounts, the timing. Malik studied the pages. Regular payments, all just under $10,000, flowing from Halford's development company to Cedar River Security.
What does this mean? Geo's finger traced down the columns, his jaw tightening. This isn't tax management, it's laundering. Clean money goes to Cedar River, comes back out dirty for bribes and payoffs. He looked up at Darlene.
You kept copies? Everything's in here. She tapped the ledger. I always document everything, just in case. Malik pulled out his phone and started photographing pages.
These numbers match the dates in those emails. When they started talking about security concerns at school. It's all connected, Geo said grimly. The fight wasn't random. They needed incidents, disruptions, anything to justify bringing in Cedar River Security full-time.
Create enough problems, Malik pieced it together. And the state has to step in. Then Halford swoops in with his charter school proposal, Darlene added. And his handpicked security contractor. Malik's fingers flew across his phone screen, capturing every page.