Chapter 8
They sat at the kitchen island. The harsh overhead lights made the photos look even more terrifying. Emily covered her mouth with her hands. She couldn't speak. Her eyes darted from Oliver, to Olivia, to Ethan. "When?" She finally managed to whisper, her voice breaking. "When were these taken?" Ryan pointed to the date stamps on the back of the photos. "This week." Emily closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath. "He was at the hospital." "He was standing right outside Ethan's room." Ryan nodded slowly. "I know." "I'm so sorry, Emily." She opened her eyes and shook her head. "Don't." "This isn't your fault." "This is her." "Even from a hospital bed, she's still trying to destroy us." Ryan looked at the letter. "She said her brother is doing this." "Arthur." "She told me he died twenty years ago." Emily traced the edge of Ethan's photo. "Why tell us now?" "If he wanted to hurt them, why send a warning?" Ryan thought about it for a moment. "Because she wants the credit." "She wants us to know she's still in control." "She wants us to live in fear before anything even happens." Emily's expression hardened. The fear in her eyes was quickly replaced by anger. A fierce, protective anger. She was no longer the frightened woman tied to a bed. She was a mother. And no one was going to touch her children. "What do we do?" She asked firmly. "Call the police?" Ryan hesitated. "If we call the police, they'll ask questions." "They'll want proof of an immediate threat." "A cryptic letter and some photos taken in public places might not be enough to get a detail assigned to the house." "Plus, if Arthur knows we went to the cops, he might accelerate his plans." Emily nodded slowly, understanding the risk. "So, we handle it ourselves?" "Not entirely." Ryan pulled out his phone. "I know a private investigator." "He used to work for my firm, handling corporate espionage." "He's quiet, he's fast, and he doesn't ask unnecessary questions." "I want him to find Arthur." "Before Arthur finds us." Emily agreed. "Do it." Ryan made the call. Despite the late hour, the phone was answered on the second ring. A gruff voice spoke. "Cole." "It's late." "I need your help, Marcus." "It's an emergency." There was a brief pause on the other end. "Give me an hour." "I'll be at your back gate." Ryan hung up the phone. He looked at Emily. "We need to tighten our routine." "No more walking the kids to school alone." "No more park visits without me." "And Ethan's next appointment..." "I'm coming with you." Emily reached across the table, taking his hand. "We won't let him win, Ryan." "I promise you." "We survived her." "We will survive him." Ryan squeezed her hand tightly. "I know." For the rest of the night, neither of them slept. They sat in the living room, watching the security monitors. Every shadow looked suspicious. Every rustle of the wind sounded like footsteps. Exactly one hour later, a black sedan pulled up to the rear entrance. Marcus stepped out. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, with sharp eyes that missed nothing. Ryan let him in through the kitchen door. Marcus didn't waste time on pleasantries. He looked at the photos on the table. "Stalker?" He asked, picking up the picture of Ethan. "Worse," Ryan replied. "Family." He handed Marcus the letter. Marcus read it in silence. His expression didn't change. "Arthur Vance." He muttered, recognizing the maiden name. "I remember digging into Victoria's background years ago." "There were rumors about a brother." "Institutionalized." "Violent tendencies." "The family paid a lot of money to erase his records." Emily shivered. "Can you find him?" Marcus put the letter down. "Everyone leaves a footprint, Mrs. Cole." Emily didn't correct his assumption about her last name. It didn't matter right now. "I'll need access to your security cameras." "And a list of everywhere the kids have been in the last two weeks." "I'll start pulling street cam footage." "If he's watching you, I'm going to watch him." Ryan nodded. "Whatever you need." "Just find him." Marcus turned toward the door. "Keep the doors locked." "And get a dog." "Seriously." With that, he disappeared into the night. The first step had been taken. The game of chess had begun.
