Chapter 4 - THE MAN AT THE BACK DOOR
Marcus pulled Ethan behind the kitchen island.
I grabbed the heavy flashlight from the utility drawer.
The back-door handle turned again.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Someone was using a key.
Marcus moved silently toward the door.
The lock clicked.
A large man stepped into the kitchen.
He wore dark clothing and black gloves.
Marcus slammed him against the wall before he could react.
The man fought hard.
A chair overturned.
Glass shattered.
Ethan stayed hidden while I helped Marcus pin the intruder to the floor.
“Who sent you?” I demanded.
The man refused to answer.
Marcus searched his pockets.
He found no wallet.
No identification.
Only a phone and a photograph of the metal case.
The phone screen lit up.
A message appeared.
Get the box.
Burn the papers.
Leave the boy.
I felt something inside me turn to ice.
Marcus took a photograph of the message.
Then the phone began erasing itself.
Every conversation disappeared within seconds.
The intruder laughed from the floor.
“You don’t know who you married.”
I leaned closer.
“Then tell me.”
“She was never supposed to stay married to you this long.”
Ethan emerged from behind the island.
The man saw him and smiled.
“There he is.”
Marcus pushed the man’s face toward the floor.
“Don’t look at him.”
The intruder continued speaking.
“Your wife said the boy would eventually lead her to the key.”
I looked at the silver cup on the table.
“Why?”
“The account.”
“What account?”
The man’s smile vanished.
He had said too much.
Police sirens sounded in the distance.
Marcus had silently triggered an emergency alert.
The intruder suddenly twisted free and reached toward his ankle.
Marcus kicked the weapon away before he could grab it.
Two minutes later, officers stormed the house.
I gave them the intruder.
But I did not give them the journals or Claire’s letter.
Not yet.
One officer pulled me aside.
“The suspect has no identification.”
“His fingerprints will tell you who he is.”
The officer’s expression changed.
“We already scanned them.”
“And?”
“He was declared dead six years ago.”
Marcus looked at me.
The officer continued.
“His name is Raymond Pike.”
“He worked as a financial adviser.”
“Three elderly clients accused him of theft.”
“What happened to the clients?”
“Two died before trial.”
“And the third?”
The officer hesitated.
“She disappeared.”
Ethan had gone completely still.
“What was her name?” he asked.
The officer checked his screen.
“Margaret Hale.”
Ethan’s face drained of color.
“That’s the woman Amanda took me to see.”
The officer stared at him.
Before he could ask another question, my phone vibrated.
A photograph had been sent from Amanda’s number.
It showed Margaret Hale tied to a chair in a hotel room.
A message appeared beneath it.
May you like
Bring the key to Miami.
Or she becomes number twelve.
