Chapter 2
I kept Eli in sight all the way from Piedmont Park to the diner.
He sat in the back seat with his backpack between his knees, shoulders drawn tight beneath the faded gray hoodie. Lila sat beside me, her white cane laid carefully across her lap and her stuffed rabbit tucked under one arm. She hadn't asked where we were going. She only kept turning her face toward the air vents, listening to the tires and the city moving around us.
“Charlie,” she said quietly, using the name she had given me when she was younger, “is Elena mad?”
My hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“She might be worried,” I said. “But you're staying with me tonight.”
The answer seemed to settle something in her. Her fingers found the rabbit's worn ear.
At a quiet diner near Peachtree Road, I chose a booth against the wall where I could see the front door and the parking lot through the window. I ordered toast, eggs, and water for Lila. Eli wouldn't look at the menu.
“I don't have money,” he said.
“You're not paying.”
The waitress glanced at him, then at me, and brought a second glass without asking questions. That small kindness made Eli look down at the table.
Gabriel arrived twelve minutes later. He wore a plain dark jacket instead of the suit he sometimes used for internal security work, and he carried no visible folder or tablet. He paused beside the booth until I nodded toward the seat across from me.
His eyes went first to Lila, then to Eli.
“Is she safe here?” he asked.
“For now.”
He didn't ask why I had brought a homeless ten-year-old into a diner. He didn't touch Eli's backpack or lean across the table. That restraint told me more than any professional introduction could have.
“Tell me only what you remember,” I said to Eli. “You don't have to guess.”
Eli watched Gabriel's hands.
“I saw her in the kitchen,” he said.
“Elena?”
He nodded. “She made the drink. The pink one.”
“The smoothie.”
“She put fruit in the blender. Then she looked toward the hall.” His voice thinned. “She had a little bottle. Brown, maybe dark. She poured some into the blender before she turned it on.”
“What was in it?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you see a label?”
He shook his head quickly. “No. I didn't touch it. I never went inside. I was outside by the side door.”
Gabriel spoke for the first time. “Did you see anyone else?”
Eli's thumb rubbed against a frayed edge of his backpack strap.
“Sometimes the guard lets me stay near the fence,” he said. “Not inside. I saw the lady give the drink to the girl. The girl didn't want it.”
A plate touched down in front of Lila. She flinched at the sound, then reached for the toast.
“Why didn't she want it?” I asked.
“She said it tasted wrong.”
The diner seemed to narrow around us.
“When was this?”
“Yesterday. Maybe the day before.” He swallowed. “The lady got upset. She said she needed to finish it. She kept telling her to drink.”
I looked at Lila. Her face had gone still.
“Did she drink any?”
“No,” Eli said. “She put it down. Then the lady took it away.”
Gabriel's expression didn't change, but his voice became firmer.
“Mr. Moretti, we need to separate what Eli saw from what we think it means. The bottle matters. The smoothie matters. His account matters. But if you confront Elena now, you could lose all three.”
I knew he was right. I also knew how easily evidence disappeared inside a house where everyone believed the owner would protect them.
“I want Eli somewhere safe,” I said.
Gabriel looked at the boy. “Safe doesn't have to mean your house.”
Eli's head lifted.
“I won't put you in a place you don't choose,” Gabriel told him. “But I can help find somewhere controlled and private.”
Eli studied him for several seconds, then gave a small nod.
I called Marco from the parking lot after Gabriel arranged a temporary room through a youth outreach contact he trusted. I didn't ask where it was. Eli needed protection, not another adult demanding details.
Marco answered on the second ring.
“Mr. Moretti.”
“I need the household access records from the last seven days,” I said. “Kitchen entry, side doors, service entrance, anything connected to security badges or cameras.”
There was a pause.
“Is there a problem?”
“I'm checking a timing issue.”
“You want me to tell Elena?”
“No. Don't tell anyone yet. Pull the records and preserve them exactly as they are.”
His silence lasted longer this time.
“Of course,” he said, but the words came out measured, almost careful.
I drove back toward the residence with Lila beside me and Gabriel following in a separate car. I didn't take Lila inside. We stopped across the street, far enough away that the house looked ordinary behind its gates.
Through the windshield, I saw a kitchen light glowing.
Gabriel stood beside my car. “You should keep her away from food prepared there until Dr. Kaplan advises you.”
“I will.”
“And don't go searching alone.”
I looked at the dark windows. “What if the smoothie is still there?”
“Then preserve it,” he said. “Don't touch it. Don't taste it. Don't let anyone throw it away.”
For the first time since the park, I felt something other than fear. It wasn't relief. It was a narrow path forward.
I kept both hands on the wheel and waited until Lila's breathing softened in the back seat.
May you like
Then I called Marco again.
“Start with the kitchen,” I said. “And tell me who had access.”
