Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN IN THE BLACK CAR
The black car was gone when Ryan and I reached the street.
But I knew someone had been watching us.
The feeling followed me all the way home.
I kept checking the rearview mirror.
Nothing.
No familiar vehicle.
No headlights.
No suspicious movement.
Still, I couldn't relax.
Ryan drove with both hands tightly gripping the steering wheel.
For almost twenty minutes, neither of us spoke.
Finally, he said, “Emily.”
“What?”
“Do you believe Sarah?”
I looked out the window.
“I don't know.”
“She knew my father.”
“So did Carol.”
“That doesn't mean she's lying.”
“No.”
Ryan sighed.
“What do we do now?”
“We protect Caleb.”
“And the trust?”
“We protect that too.”
He nodded.
When we arrived home, I immediately noticed something.
The front door was unlocked.
Ryan stopped.
“I locked it.”
My heart began pounding.
He slowly opened the door.
“Stay behind me.”
We entered.
The house looked normal.
The furniture was untouched.
Nothing appeared missing.
But the silence felt wrong.
Then I saw the kitchen drawer.
It was open.
The drawer where we kept the spare keys.
Ryan checked them.
One key was missing.
“The basement key.”
I stared at him.
“Why would someone take that?”
“I don't know.”
We searched the house.
Nothing.
Then I heard a noise upstairs.
Caleb.
I ran.
He was sitting on his bed with his stuffed dinosaur.
He looked frightened.
“Mommy!”
I rushed to him.
“Are you okay?”
He nodded.
“Someone came.”
My blood went cold.
“Who?”
“A lady.”
“What lady?”
“I don't know.”
“What did she say?”
Caleb pointed toward the window.
“She asked me where Daddy keeps his important papers.”
Ryan appeared behind me.
“What did you tell her?”
“Nothing.”
He hugged Caleb.
“Good boy.”
I sat beside him.
“Did she touch you?”
Caleb shook his head.
“No.”
“Did she tell you her name?”
He thought for a moment.
“She said her name was Sarah.”
Ryan and I exchanged a look.
“She came here?”
Ryan immediately called the police.
But Caleb wasn't finished.
“She said Grandma sent her.”
The room became silent.
Ryan's jaw tightened.
“Did she say that?”
Caleb nodded.
“She said Grandma wanted to make sure I was safe.”
I looked at my son.
“She asked about Daddy's papers?”
“Yes.”
“Did she know about the trust?”
“I don't know.”
Caleb pointed beneath his bed.
“She left something.”
Ryan reached underneath.
He pulled out a small envelope.
My name was written across it.
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
My father-in-law stood beside Sarah.
Behind them was another person.
A woman.
Her face had been scratched out.
On the back was a date.
Twenty years earlier.
And beneath it:
THE THREE PEOPLE WHO KNEW.
Ryan stared.
“Who are the three?”
I looked at the photograph.
“Your father.”
“Sarah.”
“And Carol.”
Ryan swallowed.
“Then why is one face scratched out?”
I turned the photograph over again.
There was a second line.
THE FOURTH PERSON WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE.
Suddenly, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then a distorted voice said:
“Stop looking for the first will.”
“Who are you?”
“Someone trying to keep your son alive.”
“Where is Carol?”
Silence.
Then:
“Not where you think.”
The call ended.
Ryan stared at me.
“Call the police.”
“I already did.”
Sirens appeared outside minutes later.
Two officers entered.
They examined the house.
There were no signs of forced entry.
One officer looked at the missing basement key.
“Did you know who had access?”
“Carol.”
Ryan answered immediately.
The officer wrote it down.
Then he examined the photograph.
“This woman.”
He pointed at the scratched-out face.
“Do you recognize her?”
I shook my head.
Ryan stared longer.
Then his face changed.
“I've seen her.”
“Where?”
“In my father's old photo album.”
The officer looked at him.
“Can you identify her?”
Ryan nodded slowly.
“She was my father's secretary.”
“Name?”
“Laura Bennett.”
The officer frowned.
“Bennett?”
“Yes.”
He checked his tablet.
Then looked up.
“Laura Bennett died twenty-one years ago.”
My stomach tightened.
“How?”
“Car accident.”
Ryan stared at the photograph.
“What if she didn't?”
The officer didn't answer.
But he took the photograph as evidence.
That night, we moved Caleb into our bedroom.
I slept beside him.
Ryan stayed awake in the chair.
Around 3:00 a.m., I heard him whisper:
“Emily.”
I opened my eyes.
He was staring at his phone.
“What?”
“I found something.”
He showed me an old email.
It had been recovered from his father's account.
The date was twenty years earlier.
The sender was Laura Bennett.
The message contained only one sentence:
If anything happens to me, Carol knows where the original ledger is.
I sat up.
“What ledger?”
“I don't know.”
“Can we recover the attachment?”
Ryan tried.
Nothing.
Then another email appeared.
From his father.
Never trust the person who claims to protect Caleb.
I looked at my sleeping son.
“Why did your father mention Caleb before Caleb was even born?”
Ryan didn't answer.
Because the answer was terrifying.
His father had known that someday Caleb would inherit the trust.
And he had known someone would try to take control of him.
The next morning, we contacted Michael Grant again.
He arrived at the house carrying three boxes.
“I think it's time you know everything.”
He placed the boxes on the table.
Ryan stared.
“What are those?”
“Your father's private files.”
“Why didn't you show us before?”
“Because I didn't know who I could trust.”
I looked at him.
“And now?”
He looked toward Caleb.
“Now I know the danger has reached the child.”
He opened the first box.
Inside were financial records.
The second contained photographs.
The third contained sealed letters.
Michael picked up one.
“This was written by your father the week before he died.”
He handed it to Ryan.
Ryan read it.
His hands began shaking.
“What?”
I asked.
He looked at me.
“My father believed his death would be staged as natural.”
I stared.
“Did he know who would kill him?”
“No.”
“Then why did he write this?”
Ryan turned the letter over.
There was a handwritten note.
If I die, look for the man with the black ring.
I immediately thought of the man outside the house.
The same black ring.
The same person connected to Thomas Reed.
Michael's face went pale.
“You know who he is?”
Ryan asked.
Michael shook his head.
“No.”
But his expression told me he was lying.
I stepped closer.
“Michael.”
He sighed.
“His name was Thomas Reed.”
Ryan froze.
“My father's business partner.”
“Yes.”
“He died twenty years ago.”
Michael looked at me.
“That is what everyone was told.”
I felt a chill.
“Is he alive?”
Michael didn't answer.
Then the phone in the kitchen rang.
Nobody moved.
The landline.
We hadn't used it in years.
Ryan picked it up.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then a man's voice.
“Ask Michael where he buried the first will.”
Ryan looked at Michael.
Michael's face went white.
The caller continued:
“Then ask him why Carol has been paying me for twenty years.”
The line went dead.
Michael dropped into a chair.
Ryan stared at him.
“What have you done?”
Michael whispered:
“Nothing.”
I looked at him.
“Then why are you afraid?”
May you like
He lifted his eyes.
“Because I know who just called.”
