Chapter 7 - THE HOUSE FROM MY CHILDHOOD
Police arrived before we did.
The house stood at the end of a quiet suburban street.
The place looked smaller than I remembered.
But seeing it again brought back memories I hadn't allowed myself to think about.
My father reading newspapers at the kitchen table.
My mother singing while she cooked.
My bedroom window.
The treehouse.
The night everything changed.
I had always remembered my father's disappearance as a mysterious tragedy.
Now I realized it had been a warning.
An officer approached.
“There's no one inside.”
“Did they take anything?”
“We're checking.”
I walked into my old bedroom.
Dust covered everything.
But something was wrong.
The floorboard beneath my childhood bed was loose.
I knelt.
Lifted it.
And found a metal box.
Inside was a ledger.
Exactly as my father had promised.
Daniel opened it carefully.
Names.
Accounts.
Dates.
Payments.
Politicians.
Executives.
Bankers.
Lawyers.
And one name appeared more often than any other.
Barbara Reed.
I stared.
My mother-in-law had been involved for decades.
But then I found another name.
My father.
His name was marked:
CONFIDENTIAL INFORMANT.
He hadn't been part of the criminal network.
He had been investigating it.
And there was one final section.
PROJECT HORIZON.
Daniel looked at me.
“This is what they wanted.”
I turned the page.
My marriage had been planned long before Bradley met me.
My father had suspected someone would eventually target his daughter.
The ledger contained a prediction:
If they cannot reach me, they will reach her through marriage.
I felt sick.
He had known.
He had anticipated everything.
The next page contained a list of people who were supposed to protect me.
One name was crossed out.
Bradley's.
Another was circled.
Claire.
I looked at Daniel.
“Why is Claire on this list?”
Before he could answer, we heard footsteps outside.
A woman entered the hallway.
Claire.
She was crying.
“I need to tell you the truth.”
I stared at her.
“What truth?”
She held a folder.
“Bradley didn't choose me.”
“What?”
“He was ordered to.”
“By whom?”
Claire looked at the ledger.
“Your father.”
Silence.
I couldn't breathe.
“What did you say?”
Claire opened the folder.
Inside were letters.
My father's handwriting.
He had contacted Claire months before she ever met Bradley.
He had asked her to help expose him.
The baby wasn't part of the plan.
The affair wasn't part of the plan.
The pregnancy had been real.
And Bradley had used it to manipulate her.
Claire looked at me.
“I was supposed to collect evidence.”
“Then why did you stay?”
She began crying.
“Because I fell in love with him.”
I closed my eyes.
Another betrayal.
Another secret.
But Claire wasn't finished.
“He knew about your father.”
“What?”
“He found him.”
“Where?”
Claire swallowed.
“Your husband has your father.”
The room went silent.
Then my phone buzzed.
A video appeared.
My father was sitting in a dark room.
Bradley stood behind him.
And Bradley was holding a gun.
A message appeared beneath the video.
Bring the ledger to the old warehouse by midnight.
May you like
Come alone.
Or your father dies.
