Chapter 15 - The Chrysanthemum Blooms
The arrest was quiet, surgical, and absolute.
Before Doctor Victor Vance could even reach for his briefcase, the two state investigators were out of the back booth, their weapons drawn, their badges flashing under the warm diner lights. The glass doors swung open as six armed tactical officers rushed the room, pinning the director against the red vinyl seat of the very booth where Maya had sat weeping twenty-four hours ago.
They handcuffed him, reading him his rights as they led him out into the cold night air, his expensive camel-hair coat dragged through the dirt of the parking lot.
Arthur watched from behind the counter until the red and blue emergency lights faded down the dark highway.
Twenty minutes later, a small blue sedan pulled into the diner lot.
The passenger door opened, and Maya stepped out. She wore a simple, clean grey sweatshirt and jeans provided by the victim advocacy group, her blonde hair washed and brushed back into a neat ponytail. The heavy weight in her eyes wasn't entirely gone—it would take years for the nightmare of Oakridge to fade—but the wild, animalistic terror had vanished.
She walked through the glass doors. The chime rang softly above her.
Arthur picked up a clean glass, walked over to the soda fountain, and filled it with ice water. He set it down on the counter in front of her.
"It’s over, kid," Arthur said, his voice soft and warm.
Maya looked down at the water glass. She reached out, her hand totally steady now, and took a slow, deep sip.
"Thank you, Arthur," she murmured, looking up into his pale blue eyes.
Arthur smiled, a deep, genuine wrinkle forming at the corners of his eyes. He reached under the counter and pulled out a small, paper-wrapped package—two fresh, hot double cheeseburgers and a massive container of golden French fries.
"Take it for the road," Arthur said, pushing the bag across the Formica table. "The state troopers are driving you to the safehouse in Capital City."
Maya took the bag, the scent of the food bringing a faint, real smile to her lips for the first time in months.
"How much do I owe you?" she asked softly, her eyes twinkling with a hint of humor.
May you like
Arthur grabbed his spatula and turned back toward his grill, scraping off the grease from the evening shift.
"Put it on my tab," Arthur said over his shoulder. "It’s already paid for."
