Chapter 9: The Accomplice
The flight back to Chicago was entirely different from the flight out. People recognized me. Flight attendants offered me free drinks. Strangers stopped to shake my hand and ask about Sophie.
I had become the patron saint of the underdog.
When we finally landed and got back to our modest suburban house, there was a man sitting on my front porch.
He was in his early twenties, wearing a faded hoodie and glasses, nervously tapping his foot against the wooden steps. When he saw my Uber pull up, he stood up quickly, his hands jammed into his pockets.
I told Sophie to wait in the car with the driver and approached him cautiously.
"Are you Evelyn?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly.
"Who are you?" I demanded.
"I'm David," he swallowed hard. "I'm the night-shift IT guy from the Whitmore Hotel. Or... I was. Until this morning."
My guard instantly dropped. This was the stranger who had texted me the video. This was the man who had risked everything to save me and my daughter.
"David," I breathed out, stepping forward. "Why are you here? Are you okay?"
"Your dad’s lawyers found out it was me," David said, running a hand through his messy hair. "The General Manager threw me under the bus to save his own skin. They fired me. Your dad’s goons came to my apartment this morning and told me if I didn't sign a non-disclosure agreement and a false confession saying I edited the video, they’d sue me for everything my family owns."
Rage, hot and blinding, flared in my chest. Even now, with the world watching, Arthur Hayes was still trying to bully his way out of it.
"Did you sign it?" I asked.
David looked at me, a fierce spark of defiance in his eyes.
"No. I told them to go to hell. But Evelyn... I need help. I don't have money for a lawyer. I don't know what to do."
I smiled, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. "You don't need a lawyer, David. Because they don't have a case."
My phone chimed with an alert from ADA Sarah Jenkins.
TEXT: Police just raided the Whitmore. GM flipped. We have the wire transfer your dad used to pay him off. Warrants are out.
I showed the text to David. His shoulders slumped in massive, overwhelming relief.
"My dad's money can't hurt you anymore," I told him. "And as for your job? I’ve received over three hundred thousand dollars in a GoFundMe that strangers set up for Sophie’s medical bills. The bills are covered. I’m giving you fifty thousand dollars of it. You’re going to start your own IT consulting firm."
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David stared at me, tears welling in his eyes. "Evelyn... you don't have to do that."
"Wolves look out for themselves," I said softly. "But the rest of us? We have to look out for each other."
