Chapter 2 - THE MESSAGE SHE CARRIED
The glass shattered against the patio. Elisa didn't bend to pick it up.
“Children make up stories,” she said. “This is embarrassing.”
Damon ignored her. “Daisy, where did you last see your mom?”
“At the house with the blue door. She told me to stay with Miss Ruth. Then a man came.”
“What man?”
“He had the same bird on his jacket as the truck.”
Damon knew the blue door. Hope House, a family shelter six blocks from the estate, was the reason tonight's donors had gathered. His foundation claimed to be funding its kitchens, beds, and child-care rooms.
A guard named Luis Ortega approached. “Sir, Mrs. Rochefort says the girl entered through the service gate.”
“Then find out how. Quietly. Don't frighten her.”
Damon called his attorney, Jessica Quinn, and asked her to locate Hope House's director. He also asked a caterer for milk and a chair small enough for Daisy's feet to touch the ground.
Elisa followed him into the service hall. “You're making this into a spectacle.”
“A child is missing her mother.”
“Her mother was dismissed for stealing from our program. Don't be naive.”
“You know who she is?”
Elisa paused a fraction too long. “I know the type.”
Daisy listened from the doorway. When Elisa walked away, she whispered, “Mama said people would say she stole things.”
“Did she tell you something else?”
Daisy pulled a damp, folded slip of paper from the frayed pocket of her blouse.
“I was supposed to give you this.”
The note was written in hurried block letters: ASK WHY THE CHILDREN'S FOOD IS BEING SOLD. DON'T TRUST THE RECEIPTS.
Underneath, someone had written a date: TOMORROW, 9 A.M.
Damon looked up at the estate's glittering windows.
May you like
Tomorrow was the day his foundation board would vote to sell Hope House.
