Chapter 3: What Greg Was Afraid Of
Nobody moved for a moment.
Greg stood at the edge of the path, hands at his sides, eyes fixed on the man in the suit.
He hadn't looked at me once.
The man in the suit turned slightly.
He had seen Greg too.
"You know this man?" I asked.
The man in the suit didn't answer right away.
He looked at Greg the way you look at something you've been waiting a long time to see.
"My name is Arthur Calloway," he said, turning back to me.
"I own the Calloway Building — the one across the street.
The one that caught fire yesterday."
"I'm sorry about the building," I said.
"Don't be.
It's insured." He paused.
"What I care about is why the fire suppression system failed.
It was inspected six weeks ago.
Signed off as fully operational."
He reached into his jacket again and pulled out a folded document.
"The inspection was contracted through a hospitality services company.
They subcontract maintenance and safety compliance for commercial properties in this district." He held the document out to me.
"Greg's company."
I looked at the paper.
Then I looked at Greg.
Greg's jaw was tight.
"That inspection was done properly."
"The suppression system had a failed pressure valve," Arthur said.
"Documented by the fire marshal this morning.
That valve was flagged in the previous inspection eighteen months ago.
Your company marked it as repaired.
It was not repaired."
"I don't know anything about that," Greg said.
"My guys filed the report."
"Your signature is on the report."
The crowd had gone quiet.
The news van camera was pointed directly at Greg.
Greg's eyes finally moved to me.
Something shifted in them — not guilt exactly.
Something closer to calculation.
"Look," he said, his voice dropping.
"This doesn't need to become a whole thing.
There are lawyers involved now, insurance adjusters.
It gets messy for everyone." He took one step closer.
"I shouldn't have fired you the way I did.
I know that.
I'm willing to make it right.
Give you your job back.
Back pay.
We can settle this quietly."
"Settle what?" I said.
"All of it.
You don't say anything to the press.
I handle the building owner separately."
Emily's hand found my arm.
"He's offering you a deal," she said quietly.
Not to me.
To the camera.
The reporter near the van took two steps forward.
Greg turned and saw her.
The microphone in her hand.
The red light on the camera.
His face changed completely.
"I'm not — that wasn't — I was speaking privately."
"Mr.
Greg," the reporter said, "can you confirm your company was responsible for the safety inspection of the Calloway Building?"
"I'm not making any statements."
"The fire marshal's report names your company.
Do you have a response?"
Greg looked at Arthur.
Then at me.
Then at the camera.
He took a step back toward his car.
"This conversation is over," he said.
Arthur watched him go.
He didn't look surprised.
"He'll lawyer up by noon," Arthur said.
"That's fine.
I have the report.
I have the original flag from eighteen months ago.
And I have the name of the inspector who signed off on the repair that never happened."
He turned to face me fully.
"I came here this morning because I wanted to meet the man who went back into that building.
Twice." He glanced at Diane and Thomas, still standing near the door.
"My building failed those people.
You didn't."
He looked down at the card still in my hand.
"I'd like to offer you a job.
Not as a waiter.
Come see me this week and we'll talk properly."
I didn't know what to say.
Kevin had appeared in the doorway behind Emily, rubbing his eyes, confused by all the people on the path.
Thomas looked at him.
Kevin looked at Thomas.
Kevin held out his toy car — a battered red one he'd had for two years and never once shared willingly.
Thomas took it carefully with both hands.
I looked at the card again.
Then at Emily.
Her eyes were wet.
She nodded once.
May you like
But behind us, inside the house, my phone had started ringing.
The screen read: UNKNOWN NUMBER.
