Chapter 5 - The Net Closes
For the next forty-eight hours, Dileia’s life continued its downward spiral.
The diner was mercilessly busy. Lou, the harsh, tobacco-chewing owner, had cut her hours because she had arrived four minutes late on Thursday morning.
"You don't like it, Foster, there's ten people waiting for your job," Lou grunted, tossing a stack of dirty menus onto her tray.
To make matters worse, Posie’s cough had returned. Without a full refill of her prescription, Dileia was forced to split the tiny remaining dose into quarters, giving her daughter barely enough mist to survive the night.
On Friday afternoon, Dileia stood in the breakroom of the diner, staring at her bank account balance on her cracked phone: $3.42.
She buried her face in her hands. Rent was due in two days. The landlord had already posted a bright pink eviction notice on her basement door. If she couldn't pay $600 by Sunday, she and Posie would be out on the street in the middle of a Chicago winter.
She walked out into the main dining area, balancing a tray of heavy coffee mugs, completely unaware that the world outside the diner window had transformed.
Across the street, three unmarked black sedans were parked along the curb. Inside the lead vehicle, Bishop sat with a laptop resting on his knees, reviewing high-definition facial recognition scans provided by their private intelligence team.
"We have a match, Mr. Vance," Bishop said into his earpiece.
Sitting in the back seat of the sedan, Caleb adjusted his cuff links. "Report."
"Dileia Foster. Twenty-six years old. Works as a waitress at Lou’s Diner. Lives in a basement unit on 14th Street. Raises a five-year-old girl named Posie alone. Her husband abandoned her before the child was born. No criminal record. Outstanding debts to municipal utilities, local pharmacy, and back rent totaling $4,200."
Caleb looked through the tinted window of the car, watching the slender woman in the faded diner uniform wiped down a table near the front glass. He saw the deep purple shadows beneath her eyes, the gentle, patient manner in which she served an elderly customer, and the quiet dignity that radiated from her despite her obvious exhaustion.
"Her daughter's health?" Caleb asked quietly.
"Severe pediatric asthma," Bishop replied. "She was at the county pharmacy three days ago trying to get a subsidized refill, but her insurance was canceled last month when her diner hours were cut."
Caleb’s jaw tightened. This woman was drowning under the crushing weight of poverty, yet forty-eight hours ago, she had handed five thousand dollars back to his mother because she refused to put a price on human kindness.
"Call Dr. Evans," Caleb ordered softly. "Have him prepare the private pediatric suite at St. Jude’s Hospital. I want every specialist in the city standing by."
"And the diner owner?" Bishop asked.
Caleb glanced at the greasy sign of Lou’s Diner. "Who owns the building lease?"
"A real estate firm owned by one of our holding companies."
May you like
"Terminate Lou's commercial lease by five o'clock today," Caleb said coldly. "Pay the rest of the staff six months' severance. But leave Dileia."
Caleb opened the door of the sedan and stepped out into the freezing afternoon air. "It's time I met the woman who saved my mother."
