Chapter 3 - The Door Someone Opened
Nathan Bradley had always looked harmless when he wanted something.
That was his talent.
Four years earlier he had used the same apologetic blue eyes when he emptied their checking account and vanished two days before Sammy’s second birthday.
Now he stood inside Jo’s apartment wearing a camel coat she knew he could not afford.
Gideon remained near the window.
Two security men stayed outside.
Jo stood between Nathan and Sammy’s closed bedroom.
“What do you want?”
Nathan smiled.
“You look good.”
“Wrong answer.”
“I wanted to see my son.”
“You had four years.”
“I made mistakes.”
Jo laughed.
“Plural is doing remarkable work in that sentence.”
Nathan glanced toward Gideon.
“So the rumors are true.”
Gideon said nothing.
Nathan looked back at Jo.
“You work fast.”
Her face burned.
“Get out.”
“I’m his father.”
“You are a name on a birth certificate.”
“That’s going to change.”
Nathan removed a folded document.
Jo stared.
“What is that?”
“Petition for visitation.”
Her stomach dropped.
“You’re joking.”
“No.”
“You haven’t paid support in thirty-eight months.”
“I’m employed now.”
“With whom?”
Nathan hesitated.
Gideon noticed.
“Answer her.”
Nathan looked at him.
“This isn’t your business.”
Gideon’s voice remained soft.
“Everything threatening this room became my business last night.”
Jo turned sharply.
“No.”
Gideon met her eyes.
“My concern.”
“Better.”
Nathan smiled unpleasantly.
“Interesting.”
Jo ignored him.
“Who hired you?”
Nathan looked toward the hallway.
“A consulting company.”
“Name.”
“Redwood Strategic.”
Gideon’s expression changed.
Tiny.
Jo saw it.
“You know them.”
“Yes.”
Nathan looked surprised.
Redwood Strategic was nominally a commercial intelligence firm.
In reality, it belonged to Julian Cross, Gideon’s oldest competitor.
Jo felt suddenly nauseated.
“You came back because somebody paid you.”
Nathan’s silence answered.
“How much?”
“It isn’t like that.”
“How much?”
“Jo—”
“How much is my son worth today?”
Nathan’s face hardened.
“I have rights.”
“You sold your rights every day you decided not to call.”
Sammy’s bedroom door opened.
Everyone froze.
The boy stood there holding his stuffed dinosaur.
His eyes moved from Jo to Nathan.
“Who’s he?”
Nathan smiled.
“Hey, Sammy.”
Jo stepped forward.
Nathan stopped.
Sammy looked confused.
“I’m your dad.”
Silence.
Jo closed her eyes.
She had imagined this moment.
Not like this.
Never like this.
Sammy looked up at her.
“Mom?”
Jo crouched.
“That’s Nathan.”
“You said my dad’s name was Nathan.”
“Yes.”
The boy looked at the stranger again.
“You’re him?”
Nathan’s confidence faltered.
“Yeah.”
Sammy considered this.
Then asked the one question nobody expected.
“Why didn’t you come to my birthday?”
Nathan looked at Jo.
She gave him nothing.
“I was away.”
“You were away for all of them?”
Gideon turned toward the window.
Even he could not watch that.
Nathan whispered,
“I’m sorry.”
Sammy hugged the dinosaur closer.
“Okay.”
Then he walked back into his bedroom and closed the door.
No screaming.
No tears.
Somehow that was worse.
Jo pointed toward the apartment entrance.
“Leave.”
Nathan’s face hardened.
“You’ll hear from my lawyer.”
“Good.”
He looked at Gideon.
“And yours.”
Gideon finally turned.
“If you threaten her again—”
Jo said his name.
“Gideon.”
He stopped.
Nathan smiled.
He had wanted the reaction.
Gideon understood.
His voice changed.
“Your attorney can contact hers.”
Jo stared.
She did not have an attorney.
Gideon did not care.
Nathan left.
Ten minutes later, Jo sat on the kitchen floor.
Not because she was crying.
Because her legs refused to continue.
Gideon stood several feet away.
“May I sit?”
She looked at him.
“You ask permission to sit on floors?”
“I’m learning.”
Jo almost smiled.
He sat.
For several minutes they said nothing.
Then Jo whispered,
“He chose money over Sammy twice.”
Gideon looked at her.
“First when he disappeared.”
She swallowed.
“Now again.”
“You don't know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
She looked directly at him.
“Do you know why?”
Gideon waited.
“Because Nathan was terrified of responsibility.”
Her voice became softer.
“He loved the idea of being a father. Pictures. Baseball games. Christmas mornings.”
She rubbed her forehead.
“But actual fatherhood meant staying when Sammy had an ear infection. Missing work because daycare closed. Being exhausted and still making breakfast.”
She looked toward the hallway.
“Nathan liked love when love was convenient.”
Gideon absorbed the words.
Jo stood.
“I need to find an attorney.”
“I know one.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“I’ll find one.”
“You cannot afford—”
Her eyes sharpened.
Gideon stopped.
“Right.”
“My rules.”
“Your rules.”
She stared at him.
“You’re actually capable of learning.”
“Occasionally.”
Jo found legal aid through the family court.
The attorney was a woman named Marissa Vale, forty-three, sharp enough to make Gideon’s lawyers nervous.
Gideon respected her immediately.
Marissa disliked Gideon immediately.
That pleased Jo.
By evening, the custody petition had become the least of their problems.
Someone entered Jo’s apartment while they were meeting with Marissa.
Nothing valuable was taken.
The television remained.
Cash in Jo’s kitchen drawer remained.
Sammy’s tablet remained.
Only one thing disappeared.
A shoebox from beneath Jo’s bed.
Inside were four years of Nathan’s letters.
Not letters to Sammy.
Letters to Jo.
Apologies.
Promises.
One admission that he had taken her savings before leaving.
Evidence.
Marissa looked furious.
“That box mattered.”
Jo stared at the empty space beneath her bed.
“Who knew?”
“No one.”
Gideon stood behind her.
“Someone did.”
Jo looked around.
The room suddenly felt violated.
“What do they want?”
Gideon was thinking.
“Nathan wants custody pressure.”
“That doesn’t explain someone photographing us at the diner.”
“No.”
“So this is bigger.”
“Yes.”
Jo looked at him.
“You know something.”
Gideon hesitated.
She laughed without humor.
“Trust. Remember?”
He nodded.
“Redwood Strategic has been trying to destabilize my organization for six months.”
“Nathan works for them.”
“Apparently.”
“And they think hurting me hurts you?”
Gideon said nothing.
Jo stared.
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“That's a lie.”
“No.”
His honesty frustrated her more.
Gideon continued.
“I knew you less than one hour when that photograph was taken.”
“Then maybe this isn't about me.”
“That’s what I’ve been considering.”
Jo followed his gaze.
The diner.
The photograph.
Nathan.
Her apartment.
Suddenly she remembered something.
“Copper Kettle.”
“What?”
“The diner changed ownership.”
Gideon frowned.
“Yesterday.”
“My manager said the buyer had been negotiating for weeks.”
Gideon stood.
“Name?”
“I don’t know.”
He called Marco.
Within four minutes they had the answer.
Copper Kettle Diner had been purchased by Sparrow Urban Holdings.
Sparrow belonged to another corporation.
That corporation belonged to Redwood Strategic.
Jo stared.
“They bought my workplace before you ever walked inside.”
Gideon’s expression became cold.
“Which means my arrival there wasn't planned.”
“Then why buy it?”
Marco’s voice came over speakerphone.
“We pulled historical records.”
Gideon listened.
“What?”
“Boss, Copper Kettle sits directly over an abandoned utility access corridor.”
Jo frowned.
“So?”
Marco answered.
“The corridor connects to Warehouse District Six.”
Gideon went silent.
Jo noticed.
“What's in Warehouse District Six?”
Gideon looked at her.
“One of my cash-processing sites.”
Jo stared.
Nathan returning.
The diner purchase.
The threat.
Her employment.
Someone had not selected Jo because Gideon cared about her.
They had selected Jo before he ever knew she existed.
She whispered,
“I wasn’t leverage.”
Gideon understood at the same moment.
“No.”
Jo looked toward Sammy’s bedroom.
May you like
“I was access.”
And somewhere beneath the little diner where Sammy had drawn purple spaceships on New Year’s Eve, someone had been digging toward Gideon Hale’s empire long before he sat down for coffee.
