The security guards approached, hands on their radios. An officer raised her palm toward Edward:
“Sir, please step aside. We’ll handle this.”
But Edward didn’t move. There was something in the boy’s trembling voice that reminded him of his own son, Daniel , the same age: twelve years old. Daniel was sheltered in a Connecticut boarding school, far from the harshness of life. This boy, on the other hand, bore the marks of hunger and exhaustion.
The boy swallowed.
“I saw them. The maintenance guys… they left something in the hold. A metal box. Sometimes I work near the loading area for food. It wasn’t right. It had wires in it. I know what I saw.”
The officers exchanged skeptical glances. One muttered, “He’s probably making it up.”
Edward’s mind raced. He had made his fortune by detecting patterns, seeing when the numbers didn’t add up. The story could be a lie, and yet… the detail of the wires, the tremor in the voice: too specific to ignore.
The murmur of the crowd grew. Edward faced a choice: follow him to his gate or listen to a homeless child risking ridicule to be heard.
For the first time in years, doubt crept into her perfectly ordered schedule. And it was at that moment that everything began to fall apart.
Edward gestured to the officers:
“Don’t dismiss it like that. Check the warehouse.”
The officer frowned:
“Sir, we can’t delay a flight based on a complaint without evidence.”
Edward raised his voice:
“Then arrest him because a passenger demands it. I take responsibility.”
