Chapter 3 - THE SECOND PHONE
The message stayed on the screen.
HE KNOWS ABOUT THE RECORDING. GET SOPHIE OUT TONIGHT.
Nobody spoke.
Rachel looked at the floor.
Officer Miller turned the phone toward me.
“This message was sent less than an hour ago.”
“Who sent it?”
“We don't know yet.”
I stared at Rachel.
“Who is R?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“That's impossible.”
“I swear.”
“You have been communicating with someone about taking my daughter.”
Rachel started crying.
“I wasn't going to hurt her.”
“Then what were you going to do?”
She didn't answer.
Officer Miller stepped between us.
“Mr. Carter, I understand you're angry, but let us handle this.”
I nodded.
I was angry.
But beneath the anger was something worse.
Fear.
Because Rachel hadn't simply lost her temper.
She had planned something.
The second phone was taken as evidence.
The officers searched the house.
They found another item inside Rachel's bedroom.
A small envelope.
It contained copies of Sophie's birth certificate, medical records, school records, and photographs.
Someone had been collecting information about my daughter.
I looked at the documents.
“Why?”
Officer Miller shook her head.
“We're still investigating.”
Then she opened another folder.
“This is concerning.”
Inside was a custody petition.
It had already been drafted.
My name appeared as the respondent.
Rachel was listed as the primary caregiver.
The document accused me of emotional instability.
Neglect.
And something else.
Dangerous behavior.
All lies.
I stared at the signature.
Mine.
It looked almost perfect.
But I had never signed it.
Rachel whispered:
“I didn't forge it.”
I turned toward her.
“Then who did?”
She didn't answer.
Officer Miller photographed the document.
“We'll have the signature examined.”
Then Karen, the social worker, approached.
“Sophie needs somewhere safe tonight.”
“I'll take her to my sister.”
Karen shook her head.
“Not until we complete the emergency assessment.”
My heart dropped.
“You're not taking her from me.”
“No.”
She softened.
“We're not separating her unnecessarily. But because there are allegations and evidence of abuse, we need a temporary safety arrangement.”
Sophie heard us.
She immediately ran toward me.
“No!”
I knelt.
“I'm here.”
“Don't let them take me.”
“I won't.”
Karen crouched.
“Sophie, nobody is taking you away from Daddy.”
Sophie stared at her.
“Promise?”
Karen nodded.
“I promise we're going to keep you safe.”
Sophie looked at me.
“Can I sleep with Daddy?”
I nodded.
“If they allow it.”
Karen smiled.
“Tonight, yes.”
I held my daughter.
She was exhausted.
Within minutes, she fell asleep against my chest.
I carried her upstairs.
Before entering the bedroom, I stopped.
Rachel had lived there too.
The room suddenly felt unfamiliar.
I put Sophie in my bed.
Then I sat beside her.
She stirred.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Mommy said somebody would come.”
“Who?”
“The man.”
My heart stopped.
“What man?”
“The one who comes when you're gone.”
I stared at her.
“What does he look like?”
She closed her eyes.
“Tall.”
“Anything else?”
“Black hat.”
“Did he ever come inside?”
“No.”
“Where did you see him?”
“Outside the window.”
I looked toward the curtains.
A cold feeling moved through me.
I checked the window.
Nothing.
But outside, near the backyard fence, I saw a small indentation in the wet soil.
Someone had been standing there.
Watching the house.
I called Officer Miller.
She came upstairs.
I showed her.
She immediately called another officer.
They searched the yard.
Ten minutes later, they found footprints.
Adult male.
Size eleven.
Leading from the fence toward the kitchen window.
Then disappearing near the driveway.
Officer Miller looked at me.
“This may not be random.”
I nodded.
“I know.”
She looked at Sophie sleeping.
“Has anyone else had access to the house?”
“My father did.”
She paused.
“Your father is deceased?”
“Yes.”
“Anyone from his business?”
I thought.
“His old attorney.”
“Name?”
“Richard Cole.”
Officer Miller wrote it down.
“Where is he now?”
“I don't know.”
My father's company had been sold after his death.
Richard Cole had disappeared from my life.
I hadn't spoken to him in years.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then a man's voice.
“You should have left the house.”
My blood ran cold.
“Who is this?”
“You were warned.”
“Where is my daughter?”
A quiet laugh.
“You still think this is about Rachel.”
I looked at the door.
Officer Miller saw my expression.
She motioned for me to put the phone on speaker.
The voice continued.
“Rachel was only doing what she was told.”
“By you?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“You know the name.”
I didn't.
The caller whispered:
“Your father.”
My heart stopped.
“My father is dead.”
“So you believe.”
The call ended.
Officer Miller immediately tried tracing it.
Nothing.
Then the lights in the house flickered.
Sophie woke up screaming.
“Daddy!”
I ran to her.
She pointed toward the window.
“He's there.”
I turned.
A silhouette stood beyond the glass.
Black hat.
Tall.
Watching.
I ran downstairs.
The front door opened.
Security officers rushed outside.
The man was gone.
But something was left on the porch.
A small envelope.
Inside was one photograph.
My father.
Standing beside Rachel.
Taken six months before he supposedly died.
On the back were four words:
ASK HER WHY HE LIVES.
I stared at Rachel through the hallway.
She had gone completely white.
May you like
And then she whispered:
“Your father isn't dead.”
