Chapter 7: Leonard's Daughter

I stopped walking.

John stood half a step behind me with his cap low and his jaw hard.

Palmer Stanfield still hadn't looked at him once, and that scared me more than anything.

"I'm sorry to ambush you," Palmer said, in a soft pleasant voice.

"Your name came up in a report."

"A young woman sat through a night at St. Brigid's with a man nobody knew. It's a kind thing to do."

"Who wrote the report?"

"I'm a careful man, Miss Lindeman."

"Your father was fifty-eight in that fishing photo, wasn't he? I read his file this morning."

My whole body went cold.

"You read my father's file."

"I funded the new cardiac wing at St. Brigid's. I sit on the board."

"After that terrible night, I felt I owed the families something."

He smiled sadly.

"Eleven lives. I think of them often."

A knot of donors in good coats had drifted close, drawn by his quiet voice.

A woman from the news held a phone up at chest height.

"I'd like to offer you something," Palmer said.

"A position at Meridian, in security architecture. Three hundred thousand a year."

"A signing bonus, in cash, paid today. And a share of the reward for the missing man. You understand."

He pitched the last words to the donors, a kind rich man helping a young woman make good.

"All you'd have to do is let us bring Jonas home."

"I don't know where Jonas is," I said.

"Of course. But if you were to hear."

"If I heard."

"Then you'd do the right thing."

He touched my sleeve, lightly.

"A sick man can hurt the people around him. I'd hate to see that happen to you."

"We wouldn't want another family to grieve."

The words landed in the pit of my stomach and stayed there.

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