Agnes turned away, pressed her hands against the stainless steel of the prep table, and forced herself to breathe. When she stepped back out, Clyde was gone. But the unease remained. Around mid-afternoon, Spencer started acting strange, more jittery than usual, checking his phone, often whispering to Paige in the hallway behind the soda machine. Agnes didn't confront them directly.
Not yet. She needed more than instincts. She needed facts. That night after close, she found Dara still wiping down tables even though her shift had ended 30 minutes earlier. "You're still here?"
Agnes asked gently. Dara nodded a little sheepishly. "Just wanted to help finish up," she said, then paused. "Actually, can I ask you something?" Agnes raised an eyebrow.
"Sure," Dara lowered her voice. "I saw Paige in the office last night." After closing, she said she was checking the tip log, but I thought only managers could do that. Agnes's jaw tightened. What time was this?
Close to 10, Dara replied. She said she forgot something, but she was logged in for a while at the terminal. Agnes nodded, thanking Dara, then sent her home with a quiet thank you and a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Once alone, she pulled up the internal login records for the past week. The system didn't show names, but she could see access times.
And sure enough, someone had logged into her office terminal late at night on three different occasions each time after Agnes had already signed out. The same pattern, same 2-hour window, same system changes. The next morning, she arrived an hour earlier than scheduled. She sat in the office lights dimmed computer screen on and waited. At precisely 9:30, Paige walked in through the side door.
She didn't notice Agnes sitting quietly in the corner. She moved like she had every right to be there, walked to the terminal, typed quickly, and leaned in close to the screen. Agnes waited until she was two steps from the door before flipping on the overhead light. Paige froze. Looking for something, Agnes asked, voice calm.
Paige straightened face unreadable, but the color drained slightly from her cheeks. "I was just checking the schedule," she said flatly. "You're not on today," Agnes replied. "And you don't need my terminal to check a shift." Paige crossed her arms.
I've been here longer than you've been wearing that badge. I know how things work around here. Agnes didn't blink. Yes, and that's exactly why you know better than to tamper with sales reports. Paige rolled her eyes.
Oh, please don't act like you're better than everyone just because Jasper likes your sob story. Agnes stepped forward slow and steady. This isn't about Jasper. This is about accountability. And if you want to test mine, you're welcome to keep going."
She let the words settle. Paige stared at her for a long second, then turned on her heel and stormed out. Agnes stood there breathing in the stale air of the office, hands clenched tight enough to leave marks on her palms. It wasn't just Paige. It wasn't just the lies.
It was the shadow still hanging over the room. Clyde might not have keys anymore, but he had left his fingerprints on every corner of this place. Through the loyalty he bought, the bitterness he nurtured, the cracks he created in people's dignity. And now Agnes understood what Jasper meant when he said some damage couldn't be fixed by policy or title alone. Some of it had to be fought day by day, choice by choice.
She sat down at the desk, logged into the system, and began making notes, times, dates, behaviors. This wasn't over, but now she knew what she was up against. Agnes stayed late that night, long after the last table had been wiped down and the last receipt closed. The air in the restaurant was still, but not quiet. The hum of the refrigerator motors in the back and the soft clink of cups being stacked in the kitchen filled the silence like background noise in a conversation she hadn't started yet.
She sat alone in the office with the screen in front of her eyes, scanning the report for the third time. Every time she thought she had all the numbers aligned, something slipped. One refund too many. A cash adjustment that didn't follow protocol. Logins at odd hours.
Patterns she could no longer ignore. The cursor blinked at the edge of a line that told her exactly what she had begun to suspect. The adjustments had come from Spencer's login. Dozens of them, each one tied to a receipt that ended in a customer complaint or a quiet overcharge. She leaned back in the chair, the old leather creaking beneath her weight.
Her heartbeat was steady, but there was something tight in her chest. Not panic, not anger, a kind of grief, maybe the kind that came when you realized someone you had once given the benefit of the doubt to had quietly chosen to stand against you. The next morning, she called him in before the lunch rush. Spencer walked in wearing his usual half-zipped hoodie over his apron phone, still in hand, fingers twitching like he'd just come off a long scroll. He didn't sit until she gestured to the chair.
Even then, he slumped into it like he already knew what was coming. Agnes watched him for a few seconds before speaking. "I need to ask you something," she said, her voice even. "And I need you to be honest." Spencer shifted, his eyes flicked to the side, then back to her.
"Okay." She turned the monitor toward him. "I pulled login records from the past 2 weeks. These sales adjustments." She tapped the screen lightly.
"They all came from your user ID." Spencer went still, not startled, just still, like someone whose options had suddenly narrowed. Agnes leaned forward. "I want to hear your side before I make any decisions." He swallowed fingers, tapping lightly against his knee.
"It wasn't I mean, I didn't come up with it," he said, avoiding her eyes. "Paige told me what to do. She said it was just temporary." "That it wouldn't matter." Agnes's tone didn't change.
"And why would she want to change sales data?" He hesitated. Then his voice dropped because Clyde asked her to. That name sat in the room like a crack in the floor. Agnes's heart didn't skip.