Chapter 2 - THE APARTMENT ON DELANCEY STREET
Elliot Whitaker read the crayon list one more time.
FEED EMMA.
WIPE FLOOR.
GATHER CAN.
STAY QUIET.
DON’T MAKE TRACY MAD.
Five simple instructions.
Five sentences that should never have existed in the handwriting of a seven-year-old.
He folded the paper carefully and placed it on the table.
“Maddie,” he said, keeping his voice low, “I need you to tell me something.”
She watched him cautiously.
“Did Tracy make you write this?”
Maddie shook her head.
“No.”
“Then who did?”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because sometimes I forget.”
“What happens when you forget?”
Maddie looked down at Emma.
For the first time since she had entered the building, her expression changed.
Not fear.
Something closer to shame.
“She gets mad.”
“Who?”
“Tracy.”
Elliot leaned back.
“And what does she do when she gets mad?”
Maddie said nothing.
Marla moved toward the little girl.
“Maddie, sweetheart, you're safe here.”
Maddie immediately shook her head.
“I can't stay.”
“Why not?”
“Because she knows where we are.”
Elliot exchanged a glance with Marla.
“Who knows?”
“Tracy.”
“How?”
Maddie looked toward the conference room window.
Then toward the door.
“She always knows.”
That sentence changed the atmosphere completely.
Elliot had spent most of his adult life dealing with people who lied for money, influence, or power.
He recognized fear.
He recognized manipulation.
And he recognized the particular kind of fear that came from someone being watched.
He stood.
“Marla.”
“Yes?”
“Call security.”
Maddie stiffened.
“Not police,” Elliot added immediately.
The girl relaxed slightly.
“Just have them check the lobby cameras. I want to know whether anyone followed her into the building.”
Marla nodded and stepped outside.
Elliot returned his attention to Maddie.
“You said you need a job.”
“Yes.”
“I don't think you need a job.”
Maddie frowned.
“I can work.”
“I believe you.”
“I clean.”
“I believe you.”
“I can carry boxes.”
“I believe you.”
“I don't steal.”
Elliot's expression softened.
“I didn't think you did.”
Maddie looked at him suspiciously.
“Then why don't you need a job?”
“Because you're seven.”
Her shoulders dropped.
For the first time, she looked defeated.
“If I can't work…”
She looked down at Emma.
“I don't know what we're going to do.”
Elliot pulled out a chair and sat.
“You're going to eat.”
Maddie didn't respond.
“You're going to let the nurse check Emma.”
Silence.
“And then you're going to tell me where you live.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“Because I need to make sure your apartment is safe.”
“I can take care of her.”
“I know.”
“You don't need to take her.”
“I don't want to take her.”
Maddie studied him.
“Then what do you want?”
Elliot considered the question.
The honest answer surprised even him.
“I want to understand.”
That seemed to reach her.
She slowly sat down.
Twenty minutes later, the pediatric nurse examined Emma.
The baby was dehydrated and underweight.
Not critically ill, but close enough that the nurse's expression remained serious.
“She needs regular feeding,” the nurse said quietly. “And she needs to be seen by a pediatrician as soon as possible.”
Maddie nodded.
“I know.”
The nurse looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“Because Emma's lips get dry when she doesn't eat.”
The nurse looked away.
Elliot felt something tighten behind his ribs.
When they finally left Whitaker Financial that afternoon, Elliot insisted on going with them.
Maddie tried to refuse.
“I know where my apartment is.”
“I believe you.”
“You don't have to come.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you coming?”
“Because I own the company you walked into.”
Maddie looked confused.
“What does that have to do with it?”
“Nothing.”
Elliot almost smiled.
“I'm coming because I want to.”
His black SUV stopped three blocks away from the apartment.
Maddie immediately became nervous.
“Not here.”
“Why?”
“Someone might see.”
Elliot looked at Marla.
They continued on foot.
The building was old, narrow, and stained by decades of winter weather.
The hallway smelled of cooking oil, damp concrete, and cigarette smoke.
Maddie climbed the stairs quickly.
Third floor.
Apartment 3B.
She unlocked the door with a key tied to a red shoelace around her neck.
Inside, Elliot stopped.
There was almost nothing.
One mattress.
One broken lamp.
A folding chair.
A plastic crib with one missing wheel.
A kitchen sink filled with dishes.
And dozens of empty cans stacked neatly beside the wall.
Maddie immediately moved toward the crib.
She checked beneath the mattress.
Then behind the curtains.
Then inside the closet.
Elliot noticed.
“What are you looking for?”
“Nothing.”
“Maddie.”
She hesitated.
“A camera.”
His stomach tightened.
“Why would there be a camera?”
“Tracy said she put one here.”
Elliot slowly looked around the room.
“Where?”
Maddie pointed toward the smoke detector.
Marla called security.
Within minutes, one of Elliot's security specialists arrived.
He removed the smoke detector.
Inside was a tiny black camera.
Elliot stared at it.
Maddie stepped behind him.
“I told you.”
Nobody answered.
The security specialist examined the device.
“This isn't a toy.”
“What is it?” Elliot asked.
“A wireless camera.”
“Who owns it?”
“We'll find out.”
Maddie pulled Emma closer.
“I told you she knows where we are.”
Elliot turned toward her.
“Who is Tracy?”
Maddie finally answered.
“She says she's our aunt.”
“Our aunt?”
“My mom's sister.”
“Where is your mother?”
Maddie looked at the floor.
“She died.”
“How long ago?”
“Eight months.”
“And your father?”
Another silence.
“I don't know.”
Elliot noticed the girl's hands trembling.
Then she said something that made the room feel colder.
“Tracy said Daddy left because Emma wasn't his.”
Elliot looked at Marla.
“What does that mean?”
Maddie shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Before Elliot could ask anything else, his security specialist's phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“Mr. Whitaker.”
“What?”
“We found something.”
“What?”
“The camera transmitted to a private server.”
Elliot's expression hardened.
“Whose?”
“We're still tracing it.”
The specialist paused.
Then looked directly at Maddie.
“But whoever installed it wasn't just watching this apartment.”
“What were they watching?”
“Emma.”
A long silence followed.
Maddie whispered, “Why?”
No one had an answer.
That night, Elliot brought them to a private guest suite in his residence.
Maddie refused to sleep.
She sat beside Emma's crib with her back against the wall.
Elliot found her there at two in the morning.
“You should sleep.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because if I sleep, I won't hear her.”
“She'll be safe.”
Maddie looked at him.
“You don't know that.”
Elliot crouched.
“You're right.”
She looked surprised.
“I don't know everything.”
He paused.
“But I'm going to find out.”
Maddie studied him.
“Why?”
Elliot looked at the sleeping baby.
Then at the little girl who had walked into his company asking for work.
“Because someone has been watching a ten-month-old baby.”
His voice became colder.
“And I don't like people who hurt children.”
Maddie slowly lay down beside Emma.
For the first time, she closed her eyes.
Elliot left the room.
Marla was waiting in the hallway.
“We traced the server,” she said.
“And?”
“It belongs to a company called Northbridge Child Services.”
Elliot frowned.
“Private foster placement?”
“Yes.”
“Why would they be monitoring Emma?”
“We don't know.”
Marla hesitated.
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“Northbridge has been filing reports on Maddie and Emma for months.”
Elliot stared at her.
“Under whose name?”
Marla swallowed.
“Tracy Brooks.”
Elliot's face hardened.
“Her aunt?”
“Yes.”
“And what do the reports say?”
Marla handed him the tablet.
Elliot read the first page.
Then the second.
Then the third.
Every report described Maddie as unstable.
Neglectful.
Uncooperative.
A danger to her infant sister.
Elliot looked toward the guest room.
“She wrote FEED EMMA.”
His voice was barely audible.
“Someone is trying to make it look like she doesn't.”
Marla nodded.
“And there's one more thing.”
She turned the tablet around.
At the bottom of the newest report was a scheduled hearing date.
Tomorrow morning.
Child Protective Services.
Elliot stared at the screen.
Then at the clock.
It was 2:17 a.m.
The hearing was less than ten hours away.
And someone had already filed paperwork claiming Maddie should lose custody of Emma.
May you like
Elliot closed the tablet.
“Then tomorrow,” he said quietly, “we find out who wants that baby.”
