Chapter 8 - THE PHONE
The police wanted me to ignore the message.
I refused.
Not because I planned to go alone.
Because I knew Vanessa.
Or at least I used to think I did.
“If we don’t respond, she’ll panic.”
Ramirez considered that.
“What do you want to say?”
I typed.
I HAVE THE PHONE. LET MY MOM GO.
Three dots appeared immediately.
Then:
RIDGE STORAGE. UNIT 214. 30 MINUTES. NO POLICE.
Ramirez read it.
“They’re desperate.”
“For what?”
“The phone.”
We looked at the three devices recovered from the garage.
One belonged to Vanessa.
One appeared to be a burner.
The third was different.
Encrypted.
Locked.
Police techs hadn’t opened it yet.
“That one,” I said.
“Probably.”
“What’s on it?”
“We don’t know.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Everyone wants a phone nobody can open.”
Ramirez looked at me.
“Which means whatever’s on it matters.”
I thought about Noah.
The cameras.
The bank records.
The insurance policy.
Then a memory hit me.
Two months earlier, Vanessa had asked me a strange question.
“If something happened to you, who would control the company?”
I had laughed.
“Why?”
“Just wondering.”
At the time, it felt normal.
Married people talked about death.
Insurance.
Wills.
Now I felt sick.
I called Sam.
“Did Vanessa ever ask you about ownership?”
Silence.
“Sam.”
“Yeah.”
“When?”
“Last month.”
“What did she ask?”
“What would happen to your shares if you died.”
My stomach turned.
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I thought it was estate planning.”
Of course.
Everybody thought it was something harmless.
Ramirez put a hand on my shoulder.
“We’re moving.”
Police prepared a controlled exchange.
I wore a wire.
No gun.
No hero plan.
They made that clear.
“You listen to us,” Ramirez said. “If we say stop, you stop.”
“What if she has my mother?”
“We handle it.”
I nodded.
But we both knew I would do anything if I saw Mom in danger.
Before leaving, I went to Noah.
He was curled on Lauren’s couch.
He looked tiny.
“Daddy?”
“Hey, buddy.”
“Where are you going?”
“To help Grandma.”
His eyes widened.
“Is she in trouble?”
“She needs us.”
He sat up.
“Because of Vanessa?”
I hesitated.
“Yes.”
Noah looked down.
Then whispered, “I’m sorry.”
I stared at him.
“For what?”
“If I didn’t cry at dinner, Vanessa wouldn’t be mad.”
My chest broke.
I pulled him into my arms.
“No. Listen to me. None of this is because of you.”
He clung to my shirt.
“She said you’d leave me if I kept being bad.”
My eyes burned.
“She told you that?”
He nodded.
“She said Daddy wanted a new family.”
I closed my eyes.
Rage.
Pure rage.
I held him tighter.
“You are my family.”
Then Noah said something that changed the entire plan.
“She has another phone.”
I pulled back.
“What?”
“Vanessa.”
“What phone?”
“The red one.”
“Where?”
“She hides it in my backpack.”
I looked at Lauren.
Then at Ramirez.
We ran to Noah’s school backpack.
Inside the lining was a small red phone.
Powered off.
Ramirez turned it on.
No password.
The screen opened.
Hundreds of messages.
Photos.
Bank transfers.
Voice recordings.
And one scheduled message set to send tomorrow morning.
May you like
The subject line read:
IF ETHAN IS DEAD.
