Chapter 13 - A Knock in the Dark
The new owners of my grandmother’s old house were a young, innocent couple who had just moved in two days prior. I received a frantic call from our old neighbor, Mrs. Gable, late on a Tuesday evening.
"Sarah, honey, there are police cars at your old property," Mrs. Gable whispered into the phone. "Someone kicked the front door completely off its hinges in the middle of the day. The new owners are terrified."
A cold chill washed down my spine. Victor had taken Heather’s bait, but he had hit an empty target. It was only a matter of time before he realized he had been played and started hunting for our actual location.
I immediately called our lawyer, Sterling. When I explained the situation and played the recorded threat from the unknown caller, Sterling did not hesitate. He connected us with a man named Elias Thorne, an elite private investigator and former federal agent who specialized in tracking dangerous parolees.
Elias arrived at our new house within the hour. He was a sharp, fiercely intelligent man who took one look at our security setup and nodded in approval.
"Victor Vance is an old-school enforcer," Elias explained, spreading a thick file of prison records across our dining table. "He doesn't do cyber-stalking. He relies on intimidation, physical tracking, and bribery. If he wants to find you, he will start looking for paper trails—property deeds, vehicle registrations, tax records."
"We bought this house through a blind trust," Marcus pointed out, crossing his arms. "Our names are not publicly tied to this address."
"That is good," Elias replied. "But he will find out where Mia goes to school. The university's public apology to her made headlines. That is your weak point."
Panic flared in my chest. Mia was currently on campus, studying late at the university library for her midterms.
Marcus didn't wait for another word. He grabbed his keys and ran out to the driveway. I jumped into the passenger seat, and Elias followed closely behind in his own unmarked vehicle.
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As we sped toward the university campus, my phone buzzed with an incoming text message. It was a picture sent from an untraceable number. The image was grainy, taken from a distance, but the subject was unmistakable.
It was a photo of Mia, sitting at a library desk through a large glass window, entirely unaware that someone was watching her from the dark courtyard outside. The caption beneath the photo read: "Found her."
