“I was.”
And before I could respond, someone knocked on my front door.
Three slow knocks.
Caleb’s face turned white.
Vanessa stopped breathing.
I walked toward the door.
And through the glass, I saw a man standing on my porch holding a thick brown envelope.
He looked directly at me.
Then he raised the envelope.
And mouthed four words:
“We need to talk.”
PART 4
The man on the porch raised the envelope again.
I didn’t open the door.
Not yet.
I stood behind the glass and studied him.
He was in his early forties, perhaps, wearing a navy suit without a tie. He wasn’t carrying a briefcase. Just the thick brown envelope.
Behind me, Caleb whispered, “Don’t let him in.”
I turned.
“Why?”
Caleb didn’t answer.
Vanessa did.
“That’s Grant.”
My stomach tightened.
The private lender.
The man who had given them twenty-five thousand dollars.
The man whose last name Caleb supposedly didn’t know.
I looked back through the glass.
Grant smiled.
Not warmly.
Like someone who already knew how the story ended.
I picked up my phone.
I called the police.
Caleb’s eyes widened.
“Mom—”
“I’m not discussing this anymore.”
I stepped away from the door.
“I am not opening it.”
The dispatcher asked if the man had threatened me.
“No.”
If he had entered the house.
“No.”
If I knew him.
“No.”
She told me officers were on the way.
I stayed on the phone.
Grant knocked again.
This time harder.
“Mrs. Cole?”
I didn’t answer.
He called again.
“I know you’re in there.”
I felt Caleb move behind me.
Then his phone buzzed.
He looked down.
His face changed.
“What now?” I asked.
He handed me the phone.
A message from an unknown number read:
YOU HAVE UNTIL NOON.
Below it was a photograph.
My house.
Taken from across the street.
My hands went cold.
“Who sent that?”
“Grant.”
I looked at the time.
10:47.
My flight had been scheduled for 12:35.
For the first time that morning, I didn’t regret missing it.
I regretted how close I had come to leaving.
If I had boarded that plane, my house might have been in serious danger before I ever returned.
