For several seconds, none of us spoke.
The photograph remained on my phone.
The old rehearsal building.
The empty windows.
The cracked brick.
The place where a year earlier, Travis had played bass with a band that no longer existed.
And beneath the photograph, the message.
YOU HAVE SOMETHING THAT BELONGS TO ME.
Ryan looked at Travis.
“You said the records were with Derek.”
“I thought they were.”
“You don't know?”
“No.”
“Then where could they be?”
Travis rubbed his forehead.
“I need to think.”
I watched him.
“You're remembering something.”
He looked at me.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“The night I moved here.”
Ryan frowned.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything.”
Travis sat down.
“After the band broke apart, Derek and I argued about the records.”
“What kind of records?”
“Copies of payments. Contracts. Deposits. Everything Mark had handled.”
“And Derek took them?”
“I thought he did.”
“Why?”
“Because he told me he had them.”
Travis looked at the street.
“Two days later, Derek disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“He left town.”
“Without telling anyone?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
Ryan leaned forward.
“Then why did you think the records were with him?”
“Because he called me.”
“When?”
“Three nights after he left.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he had hidden the documents somewhere safe.”
“Where?”
“He wouldn't tell me.”
“Why?”
“He said Mark was looking for them.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“So Mark knew Derek had them.”
“Yes.”
“And now Mark thinks you have them.”
“Yes.”
Ryan shook his head.
“But you don't.”
Travis looked at him.
“Maybe I do.”
Ryan frowned.
Travis stood and walked toward the garage.
“What are you doing?”
“I need to check something.”
He opened a storage cabinet.
Inside were old boxes, guitar strings, cables, photographs, and equipment cases.
He moved several things aside.
Then he stopped.
There was a black metal case beneath a stack of amplifier covers.
He pulled it out.
I recognized it.
“What's that?”
“My old bass case.”
He opened it.
Inside was the bass guitar.
Underneath the lining was a thin envelope.
Travis stared at it.
Ryan moved closer.
“You knew that was there?”
“No.”
Travis lifted the envelope.
It was sealed.
There was writing on the front.
DEREK.
His hands shook slightly.
I looked at Ryan.
Neither of us spoke.
Travis opened it.
Inside were photocopies.
Bank transfers.
Venue contracts.
Invoices.
Payment confirmations.
And one handwritten page.
Travis read it silently.
Then he sat down.
“What does it say?”
He handed it to me.
The note was from Derek.
He had written that Mark had been taking money from the band through false booking fees.
But there was more.
Mark had also been using the band's rehearsal schedule to identify where members lived and when they would be away.
I looked up.
“That isn't about the money.”
“No,” Travis said.
Ryan read the page.
“Why would he track where you lived?”
Travis shook his head.
“I don't know.”
The police were called again.
They arrived quickly.
The documents were photographed and collected.
The officer read Derek's note.
Then his expression changed.
“What?”
He pointed to a line.
“There's a date here.”
I looked.
It was the date Emma started school.
My heart stopped.
“Why would that matter?”
The officer didn't answer immediately.
He looked at Travis.
“Did Mark know this date?”
“I don't know.”
The officer looked at Ryan.
“Did anyone besides family know Emma's school schedule?”
“Teachers. School staff. Approved pickup adults.”
The officer nodded.
“Then we need to establish whether the person watching the school had access to this information.”
I suddenly remembered something.
“Melissa.”
Ryan looked at me.
“What?”
“She's the only person who knew the original pickup arrangement before Travis was added.”
Ryan frowned.
“She knew because you told her.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think she did this?”
“No.”
I said it immediately.
But the officer didn't dismiss the possibility.
“Don't accuse anyone without evidence.”
“I know.”
The next morning, Melissa came to our house.
She looked frightened.
“I got your message.”
I showed her the photograph.
She covered her mouth.
“That's the school.”
“Yes.”
She looked at Ryan.
“What's happening?”
We explained everything.
When we mentioned Mark, her expression changed.
“I know that name.”
Travis looked up.
“How?”
Melissa hesitated.
“I've seen him.”
“Where?”
“At the grocery store.”
“When?”
“A few weeks ago.”
My heart tightened.
“Did he speak to you?”
“No.”
“Did he approach Emma?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“What did he look like?”
She described him.
It matched.
The officer was called again.
Melissa provided the details.
Then she remembered something.
“He was standing near the parking lot.”
“Which parking lot?”
“The grocery store.”
“Did he have a car?”
“A white SUV.”
Travis looked at Ryan.
The same vehicle.
The officer wrote everything down.
Melissa sat quietly.
Then she said something unexpected.
“He wasn't alone.”
Everyone turned toward her.
“Who was with him?”
“I don't know.”
“Man or woman?”
“Man.”
“Description?”
“Tall.”
“Anything else?”
She frowned.
“Black jacket.”
Travis went still.
“That's him.”
“Who?”
“My former manager.”
Mark.
Two men.
The same two men we had been trying to separate in our minds.
Perhaps they weren't separate at all.
Perhaps Mark had been using someone else to move around unnoticed.
The officer asked Melissa whether she could identify the second man.
She shook her head.
“Not his face.”
“Anything distinctive?”
She thought.
“He walked with a limp.”
Travis looked up sharply.
“Derek.”
Ryan stared.
“You're saying Derek and Mark are together?”
Travis shook his head.
“I don't know.”
The officer stood.
“We need to establish that before assuming anything.”
That afternoon, the police contacted Derek's former employer.
They discovered something none of us expected.
Derek had never left the state.
He had been living under a different address.
The officer called us.
“There's a development.”
“What?”
“Derek has been located.”
“Where?”
“Twenty minutes from your home.”
My stomach dropped.
“Is he dangerous?”
“We don't know.”
“Why was he hiding?”
The officer paused.
“He says he's been afraid of Mark.”
“Then why didn't he contact you?”
“He says he didn't trust anyone.”
That sounded familiar.
Too familiar.
I looked at Travis.
He was staring at the floor.
The officer continued.
“Derek wants to meet.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“Where?”
“A public location.”
Travis immediately said, “I'll go.”
Ryan shook his head.
“No.”
Travis looked at him.
“You don't know what he knows.”
“Exactly.”
The officer agreed that Travis shouldn't meet Derek alone.
So we went together.
Derek was waiting in a diner at the edge of town.
He looked older than Travis remembered.
Thinner.
Exhausted.
When he saw Travis, he stood.
“You found them.”
Travis stopped.
“The records?”
Derek nodded.
“I knew you'd eventually find them.”
“Why did you hide them?”
“Because Mark was looking for them.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I did.”
Travis stared.
“When?”
“The night I left.”
“I never got your message.”
Derek looked confused.
“I called.”
“I answered.”
“No.”
Travis shook his head.
“You didn't.”
Derek's face changed.
Then he understood.
“Someone intercepted it.”
The room went silent.
Derek sat down.
“Mark had someone watching all of us.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Then how did he know about Emma?”
Derek looked at Travis.
“Because he wasn't watching you.”
Travis frowned.
Derek lowered his voice.
“He was watching the people around you.”
I felt cold.
“What does that mean?”
Derek looked directly at me.
“Your husband.”
Ryan stiffened.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
Derek continued.
“Mark saw you arguing with Travis.”
My heart stopped.
“When?”
“Outside the rehearsal building.”
Ryan looked at Travis.
“That was months ago.”
Derek nodded.
“He thought you were involved in the missing money.”
“I wasn't.”
“I know.”
Derek looked at me.
“But Mark didn't.”
Everything suddenly shifted.
The man watching our family hadn't started because of Emma.
He had started because he believed Ryan knew something.
And when Travis began walking Emma home, Mark realized Ryan was connected to Travis.
The school.
The house.
The pickup schedule.
The photographs.
They were all part of the same attempt to locate the records.
Then Derek said the one thing none of us expected.
“Mark doesn't have the records.”
Travis stared at him.
“Then what does he have?”
Derek's answer was quiet.
“He has someone inside the school.”
My blood ran cold.
The police officer immediately stood.
“Who?”
Derek shook his head.
“I don't know the name.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Because the person has been giving Mark the pickup information.”
Ryan looked at me.
The school.
The teachers.
The approved list.
Someone had known every change we made.
Every person who collected Emma.
Every day Travis walked her home.
Every time Ryan came instead.
And suddenly, the frightening question wasn't who had been watching our daughter.
It was who had been helping them see her.
Click here to continue reading: PART 9: The Person Feeding Mark Information Was Closer to Emma Than We Realized, and One Familiar Face Suddenly Looked Different
The Man Everyone Else Feared Was the One Person My Daughter Ran Toward Without Hesitation
Part 8 of 12
