Elena let out a sharp, ragged gasp. She covered her mouth with both hands, tears instantly spilling over her cheeks as she watched a grown man physically overpower her son and rip away the machine keeping him alive.
Garrett didn't make a sound. He just stared at the screen, his jaw muscles flexing so hard I thought his teeth might crack. He reached out with one thick finger and traced the snapped wire on the monitor.
"The zero-line alarm," Garrett whispered, the realization settling over him. "We thought his heart gave out. We thought we were riding to retrieve a body."
He turned his head slowly, his dark eyes boring into mine. "The district has no idea you have this, do they?"
"They know I was on the plaza," I said. "They demanded I show them the camera. I swapped the memory cards before Brady reached my tripod. Right now, the purchasing director is holding a fifteen-thousand-dollar invoice over my head, telling me I don't get paid until I sign a statement corroborating Brady's lie."
Garrett looked at me, calculating the weight of what I was offering. "If you give us these files, they won't just freeze your check, David. They will blacklist your studio for the rest of your career."
"I have a daughter," I said quietly, closing the laptop. "If I sign a piece of paper that lets a man like Brady get away with doing this to a kid, I don't get to look her in the eye anymore. The invoice is gone. I've accepted that." I handed Garrett the flash drive. "Do whatever you need to do with these."
Garrett took the drive, his massive hand closing completely around the small piece of plastic. He looked down at Elena, who was wiping her face, her sadness rapidly burning away into absolute outrage.
"The lawyer who dropped off the NDA," Garrett said, looking back at me. "He mentioned the superintendent called an emergency risk-management session at the district office. Four o'clock today. They're finalizing the official incident report before the local news stations start asking why eighty bikers surrounded a middle school."
Garrett checked a heavy steel watch on his wrist. It was three-fifteen.
"They expect Elena to walk in there, hand over the signed NDA, and quietly take the check," Garrett said, a cold, dangerous calm settling over his voice. "They think they have this completely boxed up."
Elena picked up the district's manila envelope. She didn't open it. She just folded it in half, her knuckles white. "Are you coming with us, David?"
I looked at the hospital doors, then back to the mother who was ready to walk into a room full of lawyers.
"Yeah," I said, picking up my laptop bag. "I'm coming."
CHAPTER 3: The HDMI Cable
The drive to the district administration building took less than fifteen minutes, but it felt like crossing a heavily fortified border. We rode in silence. I followed Garrett’s heavy cruiser in my van, with Elena sitting in my passenger seat, staring blankly out the window. Her hands were still tightly gripping the folded manila envelope containing the school’s non-disclosure agreement.
The district headquarters was a modern, three-story glass and steel structure built right next to the high school stadium, funded by the same municipal bonds my photography was supposed to help sell. I parked my van in the visitor lot. As I pulled my laptop bag from the back, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Maya, my daughter, texting to ask what time I was picking her up from her afternoon shift at the bookstore.
I typed back a quick Running late, take an Uber home, love you, and swallowed the dry lump in my throat. I was about to set fire to fifteen thousand dollars.
Garrett waited for us by the front doors. He hadn’t taken off his leather cut. The heavy boots, the scarred hands, the silver beard, and the crimson shield embroidered on his chest made him look entirely out of place against the manicured hedges and polished brass of the municipal building. He didn’t care. He walked beside Elena, gently keeping himself between her and the glass doors until she took a deep breath and nodded.
We took the elevator to the third floor. The executive suites smelled like expensive coffee and ozone from the heavy-duty copiers. A receptionist with a headset looked up, her eyes widening slightly as she took in our trio.
"We're here for the four o'clock with Superintendent Miller," Garrett rumbled.
"They're… they're expecting you in the main boardroom," she stammered, pointing down a long, carpeted hallway.
I had been in that boardroom twice before to pitch my studio’s commercial services. It was a massive room dominated by a twenty-foot mahogany table and an eighty-five-inch flat-screen monitor mounted on the far wall.
When we walked in, the district’s united front was already seated and waiting.
Superintendent Miller, a gray-haired man who treated the school district like a Fortune 500 company, sat at the head of the table. To his right was Principal Collins, looking sharp and severe in a navy blazer. Next to her was Helen from purchasing, holding a thick red file folder. And lounging comfortably in one of the leather ergonomic chairs, wearing a district-branded quarter-zip fleece, was Coach Brady.
Sitting across from them was a man I didn’t recognize, though his tailored suit and open briefcase screamed risk management.
The conversation stopped the second we crossed the threshold. Superintendent Miller’s polite smile faltered as he processed the fact that Elena hadn’t come alone. He looked at Garrett with barely concealed distaste, then his eyes landed on me.
"Mr. Davis," Miller said, his voice smooth but cautious. "I wasn't aware you were joining Ms. Ramirez today. Helen mentioned you were dropping off your witness statement this afternoon, but we didn't realize you were coming together."
"David is here to support me," Elena said. Her voice was quiet, but it didn't shake.
"I see," the man in the tailored suit said, closing his briefcase. He offered a practiced, sympathetic smile. "I'm Arthur Sterling, legal counsel for the district. Please, take a seat. All of you. We're just here to close the loop on this morning's unfortunate accident."
Elena sat directly across from Brady. Garrett stood behind her chair, a mountain of denim and leather, his arms crossed over his chest. I took the seat next to Elena, placing my laptop bag on the floor by my feet.
Brady leaned forward, resting his thick forearms on the mahogany table. He put on his best mentoring, coach-of-the-year expression. "Mrs. Ramirez, I just want to say how incredibly sorry I am about Marcus taking a spill today. He’s a good kid. I know the uniform policy is strict, but I hate that he tripped while trying to step out of the frame. I tried to catch him, but it just happened too fast."