Chapter 6
“Noah!”
I ran downstairs so fast I nearly fell.
Ethan was right behind me.
The front door stood open.
Smoke rolled across the driveway.
Our SUV was burning.
Flames climbed the windshield.
“NOAH!”
I saw movement beside the hedge.
A small figure.
Pajamas.
Bare feet.
I ran toward him.
“Noah!”
He turned, crying.
“Mommy!”
I grabbed him so hard he gasped.
“What are you doing outside?”
“I saw somebody.”
My blood froze.
“Who?”
“A man.”
Ethan reached us.
“What man?”
Noah pointed toward the street.
“He was by our car.”
Officer Reed shouted for everyone to get back inside.
Another officer ran toward the side yard.
Firefighters were already being called.
I carried Noah into the house.
He shook against me.
“What did the man look like?”
“He had a hat.”
“What kind?”
“A baseball hat.”
“What color?”
“Black.”
“Did you see his face?”
Noah shook his head.
“He saw me.”
My stomach twisted.
“What happened?”
“He ran.”
“Why did you follow him?”
“I wanted to tell Daddy.”
I closed my eyes.
Seven years old.
He had no idea how dangerous this was.
Ethan crouched in front of him.
“Buddy, from now on, you never follow anyone outside. Ever. You stay with Mom or me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re not in trouble.”
His voice cracked.
“We just need you safe.”
Firefighters arrived within minutes.
The SUV was destroyed.
Investigators quickly found signs of an accelerant near the front tire.
Someone had intentionally set it on fire.
This was no longer a cruel family scheme.
Someone was trying to scare us.
Maybe worse.
Detective Marcus Hale arrived just before dawn.
Tall.
Calm.
Direct.
He listened while Officer Reed summarized everything.
The necklace.
The assault.
The hidden trust.
Susan’s disappearance.
The emails.
The key.
The burning car.
Then he looked at Ethan.
“Your family has had a busy night.”
Ethan didn’t smile.
“My aunt is missing and somebody just set my car on fire with my son nearby.”
“I understand.”
“No, Detective. I don’t think you do.”
Hale held his gaze.
“Then help me understand.”
That slowed Ethan down.
We told him everything again.
When we mentioned Richard’s final words, Hale stopped writing.
“Don’t let her take it?”
“Yes.”
“Did your father identify who ‘her’ meant?”
“No.”
“Did you assume your mother?”
“I didn’t assume anything then.”
“And now?”
Ethan looked toward the burned SUV.
“Now I don’t know what to believe.”
Hale asked to see the safe-deposit key.
Rachel handed him the envelope without removing it.
He photographed everything.
“Who can access the box?”
“I don’t know,” Rachel said.
“Tomorrow morning, we find out.”
“It is tomorrow morning,” I said.
He looked at his watch.
“Then when the bank opens.”
I glanced at Noah.
He was asleep again.
Exhaustion had taken over.
“I don’t want him anywhere near this.”
Hale nodded.
“Do you have somewhere secure he can stay?”
Normally, I would have called my parents.
But they were visiting my older brother in Arizona.
My best friend, Megan, lived nearby.
I trusted her completely.
Ethan called her at five-thirty.
She answered on the second ring.
“Ethan?”
“We need help.”
She didn’t ask why.
“Bring Noah.”
That almost made me cry.
A patrol officer drove us there.
Megan opened the door wearing sweatpants and one sock.
When she saw my face, she hugged me.
“What happened?”
“I’ll explain later.”
She looked at Noah.
“Hey, buddy. Want pancakes?”
He nodded sleepily.
For the first time all night, he almost smiled.
I crouched in front of him.
“You stay with Aunt Megan.”
“Are you coming back?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
My throat closed.
“I promise.”
We kissed him and left.
At eight-thirty, Detective Hale met us at First County Bank.
Rachel came too.
The manager examined the key.
Box 314 was registered to Richard Walsh and Susan Walsh.
Not Linda.
Ethan looked stunned.
“Why my aunt?”
The manager couldn’t answer.
Richard had died.
Susan was missing.
Rachel produced power-of-attorney documents from years earlier, but they didn’t apply.
Detective Hale obtained emergency legal guidance and arranged for the box to be secured from access while they sought the proper order.
We couldn’t open it immediately.
But the bank manager gave us something else.
Access records.
Someone had visited Box 314 three times in the previous year.
Susan.
Six months ago.
Three months ago.
And three days ago.
Ethan stared at the page.
“Friday.”
The same day my fifty-thousand-dollar payment cleared.
Coincidence?
Maybe.
But nothing felt coincidental anymore.
Hale asked whether surveillance footage existed.
The manager nodded.
“We retain it.”
The detective requested preservation immediately.
Then his phone rang.
He stepped away.
When he returned, his expression had changed.
“They found Susan’s car.”
Rachel grabbed his arm.
“Where?”
“Near Westbrook Marina.”
“Was she inside?”
“No.”
“Blood?”
“No visible evidence.”
Rachel started crying.
Hale continued.
“Her car keys were on the driver’s seat.”
Ethan frowned.
“That sounds staged.”
“It might be.”
“Whoever took her wanted the car found.”
“Possibly.”
Then Hale looked at me.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“We traced the email threatening you.”
My pulse jumped.
“To who?”
“Not a person yet. But the connection originated from your home network.”
I stared at him.
“Our house?”
“Yes.”
“That’s impossible. We haven’t been home since dinner.”
“Someone has.”
Ethan swore.
Hale immediately called officers to our address.
We followed in a police vehicle.
The front door looked normal.
But around back, a basement window had been broken.
Inside, drawers were open.
Cabinet doors hung wide.
Our bedroom had been searched.
My home office had been destroyed.
Files dumped.
Desk drawers emptied.
My laptop was gone.
So was the external hard drive containing my software project.
I stared at the empty space on my desk.
“This isn’t about the necklace.”
Hale stood behind me.
“No.”
“They were looking for something.”
“Yes.”
Ethan turned.
“Copies.”
We all remembered Noah’s words.
Richard kept copies.
But why search our house for Richard’s documents?
I had never met Richard.
Then I saw something beneath the overturned desk.
A photograph.
Old.
Bent.
I picked it up.
It showed Richard standing beside another man.
The second man was younger.
Maybe thirty.
On the back, someone had written:
RICHARD + DANIEL HART
FOUNDERS DINNER
2008
I stared at the name.
Daniel Hart.
My boss.
Ethan’s best friend.
The man Charlotte had accused me of sleeping with.
Ethan looked over my shoulder.
His face went completely still.
“That’s Daniel’s father.”
I turned.
“What?”
“Daniel was named after him.”
I looked at the photograph again.
Ethan’s father and Daniel’s father.
Together.
“What business did your dad have with him?”
“I have no idea.”
Then Detective Hale’s phone rang again.
He listened.
His expression darkened.
“Understood.”
He hung up.
“What?” Ethan demanded.
Hale looked at us.
“Bank security reviewed Friday’s footage.”
My heart pounded.
“Was Susan there?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“No.”
Hale turned his phone so we could see a still photograph from the security camera.
Susan stood in the bank lobby.
Beside her was a man.
Daniel.
My boss.
May you like
Ethan’s best friend.
And in his hand was a thick brown envelope.
