Chapter 1 - The Slap at 7:18
The slap was loud enough to stop forty seven people from eating.
Jenna Brooks did not scream.
Her order pad flew from her hand, struck the chrome leg of Table 12, and scattered handwritten tickets across the floor.
For half a second, she simply stood there with one palm pressed against her burning cheek.
Todd Mercer leaned toward her.
“Remember who signs your checks.”
Nobody moved.
That was the part Jenna would remember later.
Not because the diner was empty.
Maple Street Diner was packed.
Every red vinyl booth along the windows was occupied. Two truck drivers sat at the counter. A family of five had just received burgers. Three teenagers were splitting fries near the jukebox. The evening sun filled the wide windows with bright Kansas light.
Forty seven people had just watched a thirty eight year old manager slap one of his waitresses.
And for one horrible second, everyone froze.
Todd seemed to mistake that silence for permission.
“Pick up your tickets.”
Jenna stared at him.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Her cheek throbbed.
“Do not touch me again.”
His eyes changed.
Todd did not usually lose control in public.
That was why the slap shocked the staff more than the customers.
For ten months he had built his authority differently.
A shift cut from thirty hours to twelve.
A table section reassigned.
A cash shortage blamed on the wrong server.
A complaint moved to the bottom of the schedule.
A joke whispered near the dish station.
“You need this job more than I need you.”
He preferred consequences that left no bruise.
Tonight he had forgotten himself.
He grabbed Jenna’s shoulder.
A man in Booth 9 kicked his chair sideways between them.
The chair slammed into Todd’s thigh.
“Back off.”
Todd spun.
“This is an employee issue.”
The man stood.
“It became my issue when you hit her.”
Across the aisle, phones began appearing.
Todd noticed.
His face changed.
Not guilt.
Calculation.
He released Jenna and headed directly toward the counter.
Jenna knew where he was going before he reached it.
The security cabinet.
Four cameras covered Maple Street Diner.
Front entrance.
Register.
Kitchen pass.
Dining room.
Todd had bragged about them whenever accusing employees of wasting time.
“Everything in this building is recorded.”
Now apparently that was a problem.
He reached behind the monitor.
An older woman rose from Booth 7.
Jenna had noticed her earlier only because she had ordered hot tea and lemon in a diner where nearly everyone drank coffee.
Elegant gray jacket.
Silver hair.
Black leather handbag.
Probably late sixties.
She moved faster than Jenna expected.
Todd reached for the monitor cable.
The woman shoved his hand away.
“Do not touch that system.”
Todd stared.
“Excuse me?”
The woman lifted her phone and photographed the clock above the pie case.
7:18 p.m.
Then she photographed Todd.
Then Jenna.
Then the security monitor.
Todd stepped toward her.
“Who the hell are you?”
She did not answer.
Instead, she said:
“Jenna, are you hurt badly enough that you need an ambulance?”
Todd turned toward Jenna.
“Do not answer her.”
Jenna almost laughed from disbelief.
The woman looked at Todd.
“You should stop giving instructions.”
Todd lunged for her phone.
Jenna caught his wrist.
Pain shot through her fingers when he tried to yank free.
She slammed his hand flat against the counter.
“Do not touch her either.”
Customers stood.
Todd looked around.
Too many cameras now.
Too many witnesses.
Too many people no longer sitting quietly.
He ripped his wrist free and pulled open the security cabinet.
Then stopped.
The hard drive bay was empty.
Todd stared into it.
“What the hell?”
The older woman opened her handbag.
A small black forensic drive sat inside a clear evidence sleeve.
Todd’s face lost color.
Jenna looked between them.
“What is that?”
The woman removed it carefully.
“The original recorder drive.”
Todd stepped backward.
“You stole company property.”
“No.”
“You broke into my office.”
“No.”
“I am calling the police.”
“Please do.”
Sirens were already approaching.
Someone else had called.
Todd heard them.
Then the woman opened an application on her phone.
A progress bar showed files being uploaded.
SECURITY ARCHIVE PRESERVATION
82 PERCENT COMPLETE
Destination:
BAIRD LEGAL EVIDENCE VAULT
Todd went completely still.
Jenna knew the name.
Samuel Baird owned Maple Street Diner.
He lived outside Topeka and visited maybe six times a year.
Todd always called him “the old man.”
The woman looked at Todd.
“You were told the cameras belonged to the business.”
“They do.”
“The business belongs to Samuel Baird.”
Todd’s jaw tightened.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Eleanor Shaw.”
That did not seem to mean anything to him.
Then she added:
“Mr. Baird hired me.”
“For what?”
“To find out why every employee complaint involving you somehow disappears before it reaches him.”
Todd’s face changed.
Jenna’s stomach tightened.
Eleanor looked toward the empty hard drive bay.
“I removed the original drive forty three minutes ago under written authorization from the owner and his attorney.”
“You cannot do that.”
“I already did.”
Todd glanced at the front door.
Two Wichita area sheriff’s deputies entered.
Eleanor continued.
“And before you start telling them this was your first mistake, understand something.”
She held up the drive.
“You were not the first employee he hit.”
Todd’s eyes snapped toward her.
For the first time since Jenna had met him, Todd Mercer looked afraid.
Not angry.
May you like
Afraid.
Continue to the next part: Eleanor has already recovered footage connected to another employee Todd insisted had never been assaulted inside Maple Street Diner.
