Chapter 4 - The Man Outside Her Window
At 4:17 on Thursday morning, Mave Collins discovered that fear had a sound.
It was the metallic click of a lock turning when nobody should have been touching the door.
She stood behind the counter at Hank's Diner, holding a coffee pot in one hand and a ceramic mug in the other. The diner was empty except for an elderly truck driver asleep in the corner booth. Outside, the streetlights painted the wet pavement in long yellow streaks.
The sound came again.
Click.
Mave placed the coffee pot on the counter.
She knew every noise the diner made. She knew the refrigerator's uneven hum, the kitchen exhaust fan that rattled whenever the wind came from the north, and the peculiar squeak of the back door that had annoyed her for three years.
That sound was none of those things.
She reached beneath the counter and wrapped her fingers around the wooden handle of a heavy flashlight.
Then she looked toward the office.
Toby was sleeping inside.
He had insisted on accompanying her to work because his kindergarten teacher had a training day, and the woman who usually watched him had canceled at the last minute. Mave had promised herself that she would close early, finish the cleaning, and take him home before midnight.
That had been the plan.
Plans had become unreliable lately.
The shooting at the diner had cost her two shifts. The repairs had cost more than she had expected. Her landlord had called three times in two days, each conversation shorter and less patient than the last.
And Dominic Varga had somehow managed to turn an ordinary financial crisis into something that felt like the beginning of a war.
Mave approached the front windows.
She lifted the blind by half an inch.
Across the street, a gray delivery van stood beneath a broken streetlight.
Its headlights were off.
Someone was sitting behind the steering wheel.
Mave lowered the blind.
She took out her phone and called the police.
A dispatcher answered after several rings. Mave explained that someone appeared to be tampering with the entrance of her workplace and that a suspicious vehicle had been parked outside for nearly twenty minutes.
The dispatcher asked whether she had seen a weapon.
“No.”
“Has the individual threatened you?”
“Not yet.”
“Then I can send an officer to check the area. Please remain somewhere secure.”
Mave almost laughed.
Somewhere secure.
She was standing in a diner with a broken back-door lock, a five-year-old child in the office, and a man outside who might have been watching her for reasons she did not want to imagine.
But she thanked the dispatcher and ended the call.
Then she did something she had spent years avoiding.
She asked for help.
She called Adrian Shaw, the attorney who had brought Dominic's envelope to the diner.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“Ms. Collins?”
“I need you to listen carefully.”
His voice changed immediately.
“What's wrong?”
“There's a gray delivery van outside my diner. Someone has been trying the front door, and I think they're watching the building.”
“Are you inside?”
“Yes.”
“Are you alone?”
“My son is here.”
Adrian did not ask another question.
“Lock yourself in the office. Stay away from the windows. I'm contacting security now.”
“No.”
He paused.
“No?”
“I am not asking you to send an army. I called because I need to know whether this has anything to do with your client.”
“I can't answer that yet.”
“Then find out.”
“I will.”
“And don't send anyone inside without telling me who they are.”
“I understand.”
Mave ended the call before he could offer anything else.
Her fingers trembled as she dialed the number of her babysitter, only to remember that the woman was several miles away and would not be able to reach them quickly.
The elderly truck driver stirred in his booth.
“Everything all right, sweetheart?”
Mave forced a smile.
“Just a problem with the back door.”
The man looked toward the window.
He had driven trucks for more than thirty years, and his instincts had become sharper with age.
“That van been there long?”
“I'm not sure.”
He reached for his wallet, left several bills beneath his cup, and stood.
“I'm going to sit in my truck for a few minutes. If you need someone to call the police again, flash your lights.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded and left through the front entrance.
Mave watched him cross the parking lot.
The driver climbed into an old blue pickup and started the engine. Its headlights illuminated the gray van.
For a moment, neither vehicle moved.
Then the van's engine started.
It pulled away from the curb and disappeared around the corner.
Mave did not feel relieved.
She felt as though someone had just stepped out of sight to find a better place to stand.
She hurried into the office and locked the door behind her.
Toby was awake.
He sat on the cot with his stuffed dinosaur tucked beneath one arm, his hair flattened on one side and sticking up on the other.
“Mommy?”
Mave crouched beside him.
“Hey, baby.”
“Why did you lock the door?”
“Someone was making noise outside.”
“Is it a bad man?”
She hated the question.
Not because she knew the answer, but because she could not honestly tell him that there were no bad men in the world.
She brushed his hair away from his forehead.
“I don't know, sweetheart. But we're staying together until everything is okay.”
Toby studied her face.
Then he held out his dinosaur.
“You can have him.”
Mave swallowed.
“Thank you.”
“He's brave.”
“I know.”
“And he bites bad men.”
A small, painful laugh escaped her.
“Then we'd better keep him close.”
She drew Toby into her arms.
For the next ten minutes, she sat with him on the cot, listening to every noise outside.
When headlights finally swept across the office window, she nearly reached for the flashlight again.
Then she heard Adrian's voice through the front door.
“Ms. Collins? It's Adrian Shaw. I've brought two security officers, and I can show you their identification through the window before you let us in.”
Mave remained still.
She looked down at Toby.
“Stay here.”
She walked to the office door, opened it carefully, and moved through the kitchen toward the entrance.
Through the glass, she saw Adrian standing beneath the awning. Two men in plain dark jackets stood beside him. Neither carried a visible weapon.
Adrian raised his identification.
Mave checked it.
Then she unlocked the door.
“What happened to the van?” she asked.
“We're trying to locate it.”
“Trying?”
“The vehicle was registered under a false identity. Our people have alerted the police, and we're checking nearby cameras.”
“Your people?”
“Security personnel employed by one of Mr. Varga's legitimate businesses.”
Mave folded her arms.
“Do you hear yourself when you talk?”
Adrian looked tired.
“Occasionally.”
“You people make everything sound like a board meeting. Someone was trying to get inside my workplace. My child was sleeping ten feet away. I need plain answers.”
He nodded.
“All right. Plain answers. Someone may be looking for information about the shooting. We don't know who the person in the van was, but we believe the interest in you is connected to Dominic.”
Mave felt the words settle in her stomach.
“So he was right.”
“About what?”
“About the danger.”
Adrian did not look pleased to agree.
“Yes.”
She glanced toward the parking lot.
“Then why didn't he tell me someone had already been watching the diner?”
“Because he didn't know about this particular vehicle until tonight.”
“Did he know people might come looking for me?”
Adrian hesitated.
That was enough.
Mave stepped away from him.
“You knew.”
“We suspected that anyone who witnessed the attack might become a target.”
“And you let me walk around here alone?”
“We were trying to respect your wishes.”
“No. You were trying to protect your employer from being blamed for whatever happened to me.”
Adrian's expression tightened.
“That's not fair.”
“Neither is having to explain to my five-year-old why a stranger is watching him sleep.”
For a moment, the attorney had no answer.
Then he lowered his voice.
“I am sorry.”
The apology surprised her.
It sounded genuine.
“I can't undo what happened tonight,” he continued. “But I can arrange for a professional assessment of the building, help you replace the damaged lock, and make sure you have a direct line to security if anything else happens. No one will enter your home or approach your son without your permission.”
Mave looked at the two men behind him.
“And if I say I don't want them here?”
“They leave.”
“And if I want them to leave tomorrow?”
“They leave tomorrow.”
She searched his face for the hidden condition.
There was none she could identify.
“Fine,” she said. “They can stay outside until the police arrive. After that, I want to speak to Dominic.”
Adrian nodded.
“I'll arrange it.”
“No. You will give him my number and tell him to call me himself.”
“I will.”
“And tell him that if he sends me another envelope full of money, I'll use it to buy the ugliest billboard in Chicago and put his face on it.”
For the first time, Adrian laughed.
It was brief and startled, as though the sound had escaped before he could prevent it.
“I'll make sure he receives the message.”
Mave turned toward the kitchen.
“Good. Now excuse me. I have a diner to run.”
Dominic Varga was sitting in a hospital bed when Adrian called.
The pain medication had dulled the worst of his injury, but the surgeon had warned him that attempting to return to work before the end of the week would be reckless.
Dominic had responded by asking for his laptop.
He had three businesses to review, two shipping contracts to renegotiate, and a criminal organization that appeared to be developing structural weaknesses in his absence.
He was halfway through reading a report when his phone rang.
“Talk.”
Adrian gave him a concise account of the incident at Hank's Diner.
Dominic listened without interrupting.
By the time the attorney finished, the muscles along Dominic's jaw had tightened.
“Did anyone approach her?”
“Not directly. The van remained outside for approximately twenty minutes. Someone tried the door, but we don't know whether the same person was responsible.”
“Where is she now?”
“Inside the diner. She's safe.”
“And the child?”
“Also safe.”
Dominic closed the report on his laptop.
“Put me through to her.”
“She asked to speak to you.”
“Then why are we discussing it?”
“Because she has made it clear that she expects you to listen.”
Dominic's expression hardened.
“I know how to listen.”
“I'm sure you do. The difficulty is that you rarely seem to believe other people are allowed to disagree with you.”
Dominic stared at the phone.
“Adrian.”
“Yes?”
“Do you enjoy being employed?”
“Most days.”
“Then connect the call.”
A moment later, Mave's voice came through the speaker.
“Mr. Varga.”
Dominic had heard men threaten, bargain, plead, and lie.
He had rarely heard anyone sound so unimpressed.
“Ms. Collins.”
“Someone was outside my diner tonight.”
“I know.”
“Someone tried the door.”
“I know that, too.”
“And I have a son.”
His expression changed.
“I understand.”
“No, I don't think you do. I don't think you understand what it's like to spend every day making sure a little boy has clean clothes, enough food, and a place to sleep. I don't think you understand what it's like to be the only person he has when something goes wrong.”
Dominic said nothing.
Mave continued.
“I saved your life because I couldn't stand there and do nothing. I did not agree to become part of your organization. I did not agree to have people watching my workplace. And I certainly did not agree to let my son become a target in whatever war you started.”
The words struck harder than Dominic expected.
He had ordered security for her.
He had instructed his men to remain at a distance.
He had believed that was enough.
But Mave was right about one thing: he had made a decision about her life without asking what she wanted.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked.
Silence followed.
Perhaps she had expected another argument.
“First, I want the truth,” she said. “Who shot you?”
“Men working for a rival organization.”
“Why?”
“Because they want control of the shipping routes I oversee.”
“And now they think I know something?”
“They may believe you heard information that could identify the person who arranged the attack.”
“I didn't hear anything.”
“I believe you.”
“You don't know me.”
“No,” Dominic admitted. “I don't.”
The admission surprised him as much as it seemed to surprise her.
He continued.
“But I know you had an opportunity to take advantage of me when I was unconscious, and you didn't. I know you refused money you could have used. And I know that when my men threatened you, you continued doing what you believed was right.”
He paused.
“I have no reason to think you're lying.”
Mave was quiet for several seconds.
Then she asked the question he had been expecting.
“Will they come back?”
Dominic looked toward the window.
“I don't know.”
It was the only honest answer he could give her.
“But I will find out who was outside your diner tonight. If there is a credible threat, I'll tell you. I won't make decisions about your home or your child without your consent.”
“You promise?”
Dominic Varga had made promises to politicians, business partners, and men who would have killed him for the chance to hear those words.
He had broken some.
He had kept others.
But this promise felt different.
“Yes.”
Mave exhaled.
“Fine. Then here's my condition. Your people can watch the diner until the police finish investigating tonight's incident. After that, no one follows me unless I agree to it. If someone threatens me again, you tell me the truth. And you never approach my son without my permission.”
“Agreed.”
“And Dominic?”
“Yes?”
“If I find out you've lied to me, I won't care how powerful you are. I will tell everyone who will listen exactly what happened in that diner.”
A faint smile touched his mouth.
“I would expect nothing less.”
“Good.”
She ended the call.
Dominic sat motionless for several seconds.
Then he called Rafe.
“I want the van found.”
“We're working on it.”
“No. I want it found before sunrise.”
Rafe hesitated.
“Boss, there's something else. We recovered a partial image from a traffic camera. The driver appears to have been wearing a delivery uniform, but the company logo doesn't match any registered business.”
“Send it to me.”
“Already done.”
Dominic opened the image.
It was grainy and poorly lit, but the figure behind the wheel was visible enough to establish one important fact.
The driver was not one of the men who had attacked him at the docks.
Which meant the interest in Mave Collins might not have begun after the shooting.
Someone might have known about her before that night.
Dominic enlarged the image.
A small symbol was visible on the driver's sleeve.
Three narrow vertical lines crossed by a curved mark.
He recognized it.
His expression became perfectly still.
Years earlier, that symbol had appeared on a series of documents connected to a warehouse fire that killed six men and nearly destroyed his father's shipping business.
The official investigation had blamed faulty electrical wiring.
Dominic had never believed it.
He looked at the image again.
Then he called Rafe.
“Find every record connected to that symbol. Every company, every warehouse, every person who used it.”
“Understood.”
“And don't tell anyone outside this room.”
“Why?”
Dominic's eyes hardened.
“Because if I'm right, the people watching Mave Collins aren't interested in what she saw that night.”
May you like
He looked toward the hospital window.
“They're interested in what I might tell her.”
