But why? What threat could you possibly be to them? Darius thought of Lah's notebook, her careful observation of suited men and license plates. He grabbed his jacket and the container of leftover rice. Where are you going?
Patrice called after him. To check something. I'll be right back. The night air had turned cold, but Darius barely noticed as he walked the familiar route to the library. The street lights cast long shadows across the empty steps where Lahi used to sit.
He placed the container carefully in her usual spot, hoping against logic that she might appear. The scrape of tires made him look up. A black sedan rolled past, expensive and anonymous behind tinted windows. It slowed to a crawl, headlights sweeping across the library facade and pinning Darius in their glare. He forced himself to stand still, heart pounding, but refusing to show fear.
The car lingered, engine purring. Darius felt the weight of hidden eyes studying him, measuring his reaction. Just like Lahi used to watch others from these same steps, noting their patterns and choices in her mysterious notebook. After what felt like hours, the sedan eased forward and disappeared around the corner without a sound. The food container sat untouched on the cold concrete, steam slowly fading in the night air.
Darius stood alone in the darkness, his breath visible in small clouds. The library's boarded windows offered no answers, no hint of where Lahi had gone, or what she'd seen that made her such a threat. "Where are you, Lahy Grayson?" he whispered to the empty street. Only silence answered, broken by distant traffic and the hum of street lights. The night pressed close around him, full of shadows and unspoken warnings.
Somewhere in this darkness, powerful people were moving against him, and his only ally was a vanished woman who'd left him nothing but cryptic advice and a marine honor guard. The morning sun cast long shadows across the school's brick facade, as Darius straightened his tie one final time. His pressed blue shirt felt stiff and formal, a shield of respectability borrowed from better days. He'd arrived 30 minutes early, determined to handle whatever principal Ward threw at him without being late for the apprenticeship interview. The school resource officer, Officer Matthews, stood with arms crossed near the office door.
His face remained neutral, but his eyes followed Darius's every move. The empty hallway amplified each footstep as Darius approached. "ID?" Matthews asked, though they both knew who Darius was. Darius pulled out his student card, careful to move slowly and deliberately.
The plastic felt slick against his nervous fingers. Go on in. Principal Ward is expecting you. The office smelled of coffee and copy paper. Principal Ward sat behind his imposing desk, a neat stack of documents arranged before him.
His silverframed glasses caught the fluorescent light as he looked up, lips pressed into what might have been meant as a smile. "Mr. Harper, thank you for coming early. Please have a seat." Darius settled into one of the hard visitor chairs, keeping his back straight. His tie suddenly felt too tight, but he resisted the urge to adjust it.
"I understand you have an important interview this morning," Ward began. His tone carefully measured. Which makes this situation especially unfortunate. He slid a document across the desk. The letterhead bore an official seal Darius didn't recognize.
His eyes caught phrases like exploitation of vulnerable persons and manipulation for personal gain. A very serious complaint has been filed, Ward continued, regarding your interactions with an elderly homeless woman. One Lahi Grayson Darius's chest tightened. I brought her food. That's all.
Did you document these interactions? Post them online, perhaps? No, sir. Never. Darius met Ward's gaze steadily.
I wouldn't do that to someone. Ward's fingers drumed against the desk. And yet we have Marines showing up at your house. Quite a spectacle. Quite convenient timing with scholarship season approaching.
The implication hung in the air like poison. Darius felt heat rise in his neck, but kept his voice level. I didn't know anything about that. I just He paused, choosing his words carefully. I saw someone hungry and shared what I had.
Noble intentions. Ward's tone suggested otherwise. Unfortunately, given the severity of these allegations, we'll need to implement an immediate suspension pending investigation. But my interview will need to be postponed. Ward began filling out a form.
We can't have students representing our school while under ethics investigation. I'm sure you understand. Darius watched Ward's pen move across the paper. Each stroke another bar in the cage being built around him. The clock on the wall ticked loudly.
8:15 a.m. His interview was scheduled for 9. The complaint suggests you may have pressured Ms. Grayson, Ward continued. Exploited her vulnerable position for personal advancement. Very concerning behavior. That's not true.
Darius's hands gripped the chair arms. I never asked her for anything, not once. And yet, here you are, suddenly connected to marine programs and scholarship opportunities. Ward pushed his glasses up. Quite a coincidence.
The unfairness of it burned in Darius's throat. Every meal he'd shared, every long walk home after missing the bus. Every quiet moment on those library steps reduced to cold suspicion on official letterhead. With your record, Ward added, the best course would be accepting responsibility. Sign this statement of apology and we can work toward a resolution that doesn't permanently impact your future.
Darius stood up, nearly knocking over his chair. Excuse me, sir. I need to go, Mr. Harper. But Darius was already moving past Officer Matthews's startled face, through the heavy doors, and into the morning air. His dress shoes slapped against pavement as he ran to the bus stop, praying he hadn't missed the downtown route.
40 minutes later, he burst into the veteran center lobby, tie a skew and shirt damp with sweat. The receptionist recognized him and immediately called Sergeant Price. Price took one look at his face and ushered him into her office. She read the complaint quickly, her expression darkening. "I know this signature," she said, tapping the bottom of the page.
"Robert Witmore. He's been trying to buy that library property for years. Claims he'll build luxury apartments." "Principal Ward wants me to sign an apology," Darius explained. "Sev avoid suspension."
Price's eyes narrowed. Don't sign anything. This is a trap. If you admit to exploiting her, they can use it to invalidate anything she left you. Her documents, her testimony about the property deals, all of it becomes worthless.
Darius looked at his watch. 8:55 a.m. His interview would start in 5 minutes across town. I should call them, he said quietly. Explain why I can't make it. Price reached for her phone.
I can help reschedu, but Darius, this fight might cost you the position. Are you sure? Darius thought of Lah's proud posture on those library steps, how she'd refuse to beg or perform gratitude for kindness. He straightened his tie one final time. "I will not lie about Lahy Grayson," he said firmly.