Eric didn't answer immediately.
He looked at the police officer.
Then at Vanessa.
Then at me.
Finally he called upstairs.
“No baseball tonight, buddy.”
Brooks came down two steps.
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
That wasn't enough for him.
“Are we in trouble?”
“No.”
“Then why can't we go?”
Eric walked to the stairs.
“Because Dad needs you home.”
Brooks stared at him.
Then he nodded.
He didn't complain.
That frightened me more than if he'd cried.
The police officer told us to stay inside while they checked the area.
But Eric wouldn't sit still.
He kept walking from one window to another.
At six-thirty, his phone rang.
It was Brooks's coach.
“Where is he?” the coach asked.
“Home.”
“Everything okay?”
Eric hesitated.
“There's a family situation.”
The coach lowered his voice.
“Do you want me to send someone?”
“No. Just don't let anyone take him if they show up asking.”
There was a pause.
“Eric, what happened?”
“I'll explain later.”
He ended the call.
Vanessa was sitting on the floor beside Lily.
She was crying silently while Lily played with a plastic doll.
I watched them for a moment.
There was something tragic about seeing a mother hold her daughter's hand while knowing she had been planning to leave her.
“Vanessa,” I said.
She looked up.
“Why didn't you tell Eric the truth when Michael first contacted you?”
She swallowed.
“Because I was afraid he'd think I was bringing trouble into his life.”
“You were his wife.”
“I know.”
“You were supposed to bring trouble to him. That's what marriage is.”
A sad smile touched her face.
“I know that now.”
Eric walked into the room.
“We need to go.”
I stood.
“Where?”
“The school.”
The officer shook his head.
“You were instructed to stay here.”
Eric pointed toward the evidence bag.
“That's a photograph of my son with a threat written on it.”
“We'll send officers.”
“Send them.”
“We already are.”
Eric looked at me.
“I need to see the field.”
I knew what he was thinking.
If someone had been watching Brooks, the field was the obvious place to check.
We didn't take the children.
The officers stayed with them.
Eric, Vanessa, and I went in separate cars.
The baseball field was only ten minutes away.
It looked harmless.
Empty bleachers.
A locked concession stand.
A row of trees behind the outfield.
The lights were off.
Eric parked.
I could see his hands shaking on the steering wheel.
“I should have noticed,” he said.
“Noticed what?”
“How often someone knew where the kids were.”
Vanessa looked away.
Eric continued.
“I thought she was paranoid.”
“You weren't listening,” I said.
He looked at me.
“No.”
The field was empty.
But the gate was unlocked.
Eric stopped.
“It should be locked.”
The officer behind us raised his flashlight.
They moved ahead.
I stayed close.
Then I saw something on the bleachers.
A backpack.
Blue.
Brooks's.
Eric ran.
“Brooks!”
The officer grabbed his shoulder.
“Wait.”
Eric stopped.
The backpack sat alone.
The zipper was open.
Inside was Brooks's baseball glove.
Nothing else.
Vanessa covered her mouth.
“He wasn't supposed to be here.”
Eric turned.
“Of course he wasn't.”
The officer examined the backpack.
“No blood. No sign of a struggle.”
Then he found something beneath the glove.
A folded piece of paper.
Eric opened it.
Three words.
WRONG PLACE, DAD.
He looked around.
“Someone knew we'd come here.”
The officer nodded.
“That means they knew about the evidence.”
“Or they planted it knowing we'd find it.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Eric's phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
“Hello?”
A man's voice said:
“You're looking in the wrong direction.”
Eric's jaw tightened.
“Who is this?”
“You keep asking who.”
“Tell me.”
“Ask your mother.”
The call ended.
Eric stared at me.
“What does that mean?”
I felt something cold settle in my chest.
“I don't know.”
The phone rang again.
This time it was Ray.
Eric answered immediately.
“Where are you?”
Silence.
Then Ray said:
“I'm trying to keep you alive.”
Eric's eyes narrowed.
“You've been following my children.”
“No.”
“You were outside my mother's house.”
“I was watching the house.”
“For whom?”
Ray didn't answer.
Eric shouted.
“For whom?”
Ray finally said:
“For the same person you're running from.”
Then the call ended.
Eric looked at me.
“Mom.”
I shook my head.
“I don't understand.”
But part of me did.
Ray wasn't necessarily the person threatening us.
He might have been following the threat.
The question was why he had never told us.
When we returned home, the police had discovered something else.
A second vehicle had been seen near my street.
It belonged to Michael.
That was the first confirmed connection between the two men.
The police wanted Vanessa to identify him.
She did.
Then they asked her another question.
“Did Michael know Ray?”
Vanessa stared at the table.
“I don't know.”
The officer frowned.
“You must have some idea.”
She shook her head.
“I never saw them together.”
Eric looked at her.
“Vanessa.”
She looked up.
“I swear.”
Then Brooks came downstairs.
He had something in his hand.
A photograph.
He walked straight to Eric.
“Dad.”
Eric crouched.
“What is it?”
Brooks handed him the picture.
It showed three adults standing outside a restaurant.
Michael was there.
Ray was there.
And Vanessa.
Eric stared at the image.
Vanessa began to cry.
“I've never seen that.”
“You're in the picture,” Eric said.
“I know.”
“Then why are you saying you've never seen it?”
“I mean I've never seen that photograph.”
Eric looked at Brooks.
“Where did you get this?”
Brooks pointed upstairs.
“In Mom's bag.”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
The officer took the photograph.
“Everyone stay where you are.”
Eric looked at his wife.
“You met Michael before three weeks ago.”
“No.”
“Then why are you standing beside him?”
“I don't know.”
“You don't know?”
“I don't.”
The room erupted into overlapping voices.
I raised my hand.
“Stop.”
Everyone went quiet.
I looked at the photograph.
Something bothered me.
Not Michael.
Not Ray.
Vanessa.
She wasn't looking at either man.
She was looking behind the camera.
At someone else.
I pointed.
“Who's taking the picture?”
Nobody answered.
Eric leaned closer.
The edge of another person's hand was visible in the corner.
A wedding ring.
I recognized that ring.
My heart stopped.
“Eric.”
He looked at me.
“That hand.”
He stared.
Then his face changed.
“That's Uncle Ray's ring.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Mom?”
“Ray wears his ring on his right hand.”
Eric looked again.
The hand in the photograph wore the ring on the left.
The officer took the photograph and enlarged it on his phone.
“There are four people here,” he said.
“Not three.”
I stared at the image.
The fourth person had been standing directly behind the camera.
Close enough to touch it.
Close enough to hear every word.
Close enough to know everything Vanessa had been hiding.
Then the officer's phone rang.
He listened.
His expression hardened.
“What?”
He looked at Eric.
“Your brother has been found.”
“Where?”
The officer hesitated.
“At Michael's hotel.”
Eric stared.
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
“Then what's wrong?”
The officer looked toward Vanessa.
“He wasn't alone.”
“Who was with him?”
The officer's answer made Vanessa collapse into the nearest chair.
“Your brother.”
Eric frowned.
“That doesn't make sense.”
The officer shook his head.
“I mean Michael wasn't alone.”
“Who was with him?”
The officer looked directly at me.
“Your brother Ray.”
I felt the room tilt.
But before I could speak, my phone vibrated.
One new message.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
There was a photograph.
My own front door.
Taken from inside the house.
And beneath it were five words.
HE NEVER LEFT YOUR FAMILY.
I looked up at Eric.
For the first time, neither of us knew which person in the room was safe.
Click here to continue reading: PART 5: The Message Had Come From Inside the House, and Suddenly Every Person We Trusted Had a Reason to Keep Us Afraid
The Children Arrived With More Than Weekend Bags, and the One Envelope I Refused to Open Made My Son Race Home
Part 4 of 8
