Chapter 10 - Foundation Tower Promises
He didn't drive me straight to a police station. I realized that two blocks after we left the apartment, when he turned toward downtown instead of toward the county sheriff's office on Fifth.
"Where are we going?" I asked from the back seat. My daughter was buckled beside me, half asleep against my arm, her backpack on her lap.
"A foundation office," he said. His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "It's safer than a precinct parking lot at this hour. We can make a record there."
The tower was all glass and pale stone, lit up from the inside even though it was past ten. The lobby smelled like fresh carpet and cold air. A security guard nodded at him like he knew him, and didn't ask for my ID. That bothered me more than the cameras. My uniform was still damp under the arms. I hadn't changed. I hadn't wanted to let Lily out of my sight long enough to change.
On the elevator up, he stood close to the doors, his left wrist catching the light. Silver links. The same watch from the diner table. He kept his hands folded, calm, but I could see his jaw working.
"You said protection," I said quietly, so Lily wouldn't fully hear. "You didn't say lawyers."
"You need both," he said.
The office on the fourteenth floor was dark except for one conference room. A woman in a gray blazer was already waiting with a laptop and a small stack of paper. Late thirties, hair pulled back, no jewelry except a wedding band. She stood and shook my hand.
"Emma? I'm Dana Price. I do compliance for the foundation." She smiled at Lily. "Hi there. There's juice boxes in the mini-fridge if you want one, honey."
Lily looked at me. I nodded, and she went to get one, staying where I could see her by the sideboard. My hands were shaking when I sat down.
Ms. Price slid a document across the light wood table. It was already typed. My name was already on it.
"This is an affidavit of witness account," she said. "It states that on the night of the highway fire three weeks ago, you removed Mr. Hale from his vehicle and were present at the scene. If you sign, the foundation can immediately authorize emergency relocation. Apartment, expenses, school transfer for your daughter. For up to ninety days."
There it was. Hale. He'd told me his last name back at the diner, but seeing it printed made it real in a different way.
I stared at the papers. Two pages. Clean language. Date, location, time. It even listed the mile marker I hadn't told anyone except him.
"How did you get the mile marker?" I asked.
He sat down across from me. "You told me. At the diner."
"No," I said. "I never said a number."
A small pause. He breathed in through his nose. "The tow record had it. I pulled it before I came to find you."
Ms. Price turned her laptop toward me. "We just need your signature and a notary. I can notarize right here."
I started reading. Most of it was what happened. Smoke. Heat on my face. His seatbelt stuck. The way I'd braced my foot on the door frame to pull. My stomach turned, remembering the smell. Then I got to paragraph four.
*Affiant understands this statement may be disclosed to insurers, law enforcement, and media in connection with foundation proceedings.*
I read it twice.
"If I sign this," I said, "my name goes public."
Ms. Price kept her voice even. "It becomes part of the official file. That's what gives it weight. That weight is what protects you."
"Or paints a target on me." My voice came out sharper than I meant. Lily looked up from her juice box. I softened it. "Sorry. But if the people who left those cigarettes, who ran that truck past my apartment — if they can pull a file, they'll know exactly who talked."
He leaned forward, forearms on the table. "Emma. Without paper, it's just my word. My word isn't clean right now."
"And with paper, I'm the witness family," I said. "That's what you told me they go after."
Ms. Price glanced at him, then back at me. "Relocation would start tonight. We have a unit available. Gated."
I thought about my apartment door with the extra chain I'd put on, the diner schedule taped to the fridge, Lily's school pick-up line where anyone could park and watch. I wanted to sign so badly my hand actually moved toward the pen.
Then I stopped.
"I need a sheriff in the room," I said. "Not just foundation lawyers. County. Someone who can file this outside your system."
Ms. Price frowned. "That will slow things down by days."
"Then we wait days for the signature," I said. I pushed the papers back, just an inch. "I'll give a verbal statement tonight. You can record it. But I'm not signing anything that can be copied to the wrong hands until a sheriff tells me where it goes."
Silence settled over the conference room. The air conditioner hummed. Lily crinkled her straw wrapper.
He studied me for a long moment, then gave a short nod. "Okay."
"Okay?" Ms. Price said.
"She's right," he said. He didn't look away from me. "No signature tonight. We do it her way."
May you like
I didn't feel victorious. My chest was still tight, and Lily was leaning her head against my shoulder now, tired. Help was right there on the table, with a pen on top of it. But I kept seeing that line about disclosure, my name typed clean and easy to find.
I left it unsigned.
