Chapter 9 - THE TRAP
The black case had contained more than equipment.
It had contained a signal.
The satellite phone was built for emergencies.
The moment I activated it, a dormant federal authentication code transmitted through a network monitored by people who understood exactly what it meant.
Apparently Eric Vance had been monitoring too.
“He knew you still had the device,” Jack said.
“How?”
“He helped design the emergency protocol.”
Of course he did.
“He wanted me to activate it.”
“That’s our current theory.”
“Why?”
Jack looked toward Lily.
“Because he thought you had something Eleanor left behind.”
The letter.
The photograph.
Maybe something else.
I thought back to the years before Eleanor died.
Had Eric ever visited?
Yes.
Once.
He came to our house after hearing about her diagnosis.
He brought flowers.
He stayed for dinner.
He asked questions about whether she had organized important documents.
At the time, I thought he was being helpful.
Now every memory became evidence.
“What does he think I have?”
Jack shook his head.
“We don’t know.”
Lily spoke quietly.
“Maybe Mom gave Dad something without telling him.”
I considered it.
Eleanor knew I would protect anything connected to her.
She also knew I was stubborn enough not to examine something if she told me it was personal.
Then I remembered the wooden box.
It was still inside my house in Ashford.
Eleanor gave it to me three days before she entered hospice.
She told me not to open it until I was ready to remember her without anger.
I had never opened it.
Not once.
Jack saw my face.
“What?”
“There’s something at my house.”
He stood.
“Describe it.”
I did.
Within ten minutes, a federal team was heading there.
They arrived forty minutes later.
Too late.
My back door had been forced open.
The bedroom was torn apart.
The wooden box was gone.
Nothing else had been stolen.
Vance had it.
Lily whispered, “What was inside?”
“I don’t know.”
Jack’s phone rang.
He listened.
Then he turned toward me.
“Your home security camera uploaded something before being disabled.”
A grainy image appeared.
Eric Vance.
Older.
Heavier.
But unmistakable.
He carried Eleanor’s box beneath one arm.
Before leaving, he stopped.
Looked directly into the camera.
And held up three fingers.
I understood instantly.
Jack did too.
“Three Bridge.”
Lily looked between us.
“What is that?”
“An old rendezvous code.”
“Where?”
I hesitated.
Jack answered.
“An abandoned railroad bridge north of Ashford.”
Lily’s eyes widened.
“He wants you to go there.”
“Yes.”
“You’re not going.”
“I’m not.”
She looked suspicious.
I meant it.
The old me would have gone.
Alone.
Armed.
Angry.
Exactly what Eric wanted.
Instead, we turned the trap around.
Federal agents surrounded the Three Bridge area before sunset.
Thermal drones scanned the woods.
Snipers positioned at distance.
Ruiz approached the bridge carrying an empty black bag.
Nobody appeared.
Then a speaker hidden beneath the bridge activated.
Eric’s voice echoed over the river.
“Still hiding behind teams, Thomas?”
Jack swore.
Eric continued.
“You always were better at saving strangers than your own family.”
My hands tightened.
Lily touched my arm.
“He wants you angry.”
She was right.
The speaker crackled.
Then Eric said, “Ask yourself why Eleanor got sick so quickly.”
My heart stopped.
Nobody moved.
The river continued beneath the bridge.
Then his voice came again.
“She found the money.”
May you like
A pause.
“So Charles found a doctor.”
