The dismissal records arrived the following morning.
The officer spread them across a conference table.
There were dozens of pages.
Names.
Times.
Signatures.
Changes.
Corrections.
At first, they looked meaningless.
Then the officer circled four entries.
“Look at these.”
Each one involved Emma.
The first was the day Travis was added.
The second was the day Ryan changed the arrangement.
The third was the day Melissa picked Emma up.
The fourth was the day of the school incident.
Beside each entry was the same set of initials.
Not the secretary's.
Not the principal's.
Not mine.
A.V.
I stared at them.
“Who is A.V.?”
The principal frowned.
“I don't know.”
The secretary looked at the records.
“That shouldn't be there.”
“Why?”
“Those initials belong to a former volunteer.”
The officer looked up.
“Name?”
“Angela Vaughn.”
I had never heard the name.
“Why isn't she volunteering anymore?”
The secretary hesitated.
“She stopped coming three weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“She said she had family problems.”
The officer asked whether she had access to the school office.
“Yes.”
“Administrative computer?”
“Sometimes.”
“Pickup records?”
“Yes.”
I felt a chill.
“Does she know Emma?”
The secretary nodded.
“She helped with dismissal.”
“Did she know Travis?”
“Yes.”
The principal added, “She once asked why a man like him was authorized to pick up a little girl.”
I looked at Travis.
“When?”
“A few weeks ago.”
“Did you hear her say it?”
Travis shook his head.
“No.”
The officer asked whether Angela knew Mark.
Nobody knew.
That afternoon, the police located her.
She agreed to speak.
We were not present for the interview.
The officer told us only what was necessary.
Angela denied knowing Mark.
She denied changing records.
She denied giving anyone information.
Then the police showed her the records.
She changed her story.
Not completely.
Just enough.
She admitted using the administrative account.
But she insisted she had done it because she believed Travis was unsafe.
Ryan looked at me.
That sounded familiar.
Too familiar.
The officer asked her why.
She said she'd heard rumors about Travis.
What rumors?
She couldn't remember.
Who told her?
She didn't know.
The officer asked whether she had ever spoken to Mark.
She said no.
Then they found a message on her phone.
A number saved without a name.
Three months of communication.
The messages were short.
Dates.
Times.
Names.
And instructions.
The officer wouldn't show us all of them.
But one message stood out.
WATCH THE MAN ON THE MOTORCYCLE.
Angela admitted she'd been paid.
“How much?”
She didn't say.
“Who paid you?”
She claimed she didn't know.
The officer didn't believe her.
Neither did I.
That evening, we went to the hospital to see Derek.
He was bruised but conscious.
When he saw Travis, he tried to sit up.
“Don't.”
Travis moved closer.
“Who attacked you?”
Derek shook his head.
“I don't know.”
“Was it Mark?”
“I couldn't see.”
“Did he say anything?”
Derek looked at me.
“No.”
“What happened?”
“He wanted the records.”
“We have them.”
Derek's eyes widened.
“You found them?”
“Yes.”
“Then you're in more danger than I am.”
Ryan stepped forward.
“Why?”
Derek swallowed.
“Because Mark isn't looking for the records anymore.”
The room went quiet.
“What does he want?”
“Whoever has the records.”
I felt cold.
“You mean us.”
Derek nodded.
“Mark knows Travis has them.”
“How?”
“Because he knows everything.”
The officer asked whether Mark had contacts at the school.
Derek looked confused.
“School?”
We explained.
He stared at Travis.
“Why would he involve a school?”
“To track Emma.”
Derek shook his head.
“That's not Mark's style.”
“What does that mean?”
“He doesn't care about children.”
“Then why is he doing this?”
Derek thought.
“He's trying to pressure Travis.”
“Why?”
“Because Travis is the only person who can connect him to the missing money.”
Travis looked at him.
“But the records do that.”
“Yes.”
“Then why not destroy them?”
Derek's expression changed.
“Because he doesn't know whether there are copies.”
Travis understood.
“You think he wants me to reveal where the other records are.”
“Yes.”
The officer leaned forward.
“How many copies?”
Derek looked at Travis.
“I don't know.”
Travis said nothing.
I looked at him.
“You do.”
He sighed.
“One.”
“Where?”
He looked at me.
“I gave it to Ryan.”
Ryan froze.
“What?”
“You asked me for the documents months ago.”
Ryan stared.
“I never did.”
“You did.”
“When?”
“After we argued outside the rehearsal building.”
Ryan's face changed.
“That night?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you gave me something else.”
Travis frowned.
“What?”
“A folder.”
“That was the folder.”
Ryan stared at him.
He looked genuinely confused.
“I put it in storage.”
I looked at him.
“Where?”
“Our old storage unit.”
The officer stood.
“Where is it?”
Ryan gave him the address.
The officer immediately sent another unit.
Then my phone rang.
It was Emma's teacher.
I answered.
“Hello?”
Her voice was shaking.
“Mrs. Carter, I need you to come to the school.”
“What happened?”
“Someone entered the classroom.”
“Was Emma there?”
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
“We found something on her desk.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“A photograph.”
I looked at Ryan.
“Of what?”
The teacher hesitated.
“Your house.”
I closed my eyes.
Again.
Another photograph.
But when we arrived, the picture was different.
It showed our front porch.
Emma's backpack was visible through the window.
The photograph had been taken that morning.
But Emma hadn't been home.
She had been with my mother.
The officer looked at it.
“Someone is trying to make you think they're watching her.”
“Are they?”
“Yes.”
“But why take a picture of her backpack?”
He studied it.
“Because they want you to know they can identify her belongings.”
I felt sick.
Then Travis noticed something.
“Look at the corner.”
A tiny reflection.
A car window.
And inside it, a person.
The face was barely visible.
But Travis recognized the outline.
“That's Mark.”
The officer zoomed in.
The image was too blurred for certainty.
But Travis was convinced.
Then another detail emerged.
The photograph had been printed at a local pharmacy.
The police traced the order.
It had been submitted under Angela's account.
I looked at Ryan.
“She lied.”
“Yes.”
“But why would she help Mark?”
The officer answered.
“Because money isn't the only reason people cooperate.”
“What else?”
“Fear.”
We found Angela again.
This time, she broke.
She admitted Mark had threatened her.
But she still insisted she hadn't known what he planned.
Then she revealed something worse.
Mark had another person inside the school.
Someone who had access to the classrooms.
Someone Angela had been afraid to name.
“Who?”
She started crying.
Then she whispered a name.
I knew it immediately.
My blood ran cold.
It wasn't the principal.
It wasn't the secretary.
It wasn't a stranger.
It was Emma's teacher.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: Emma’s Teacher Was Hiding a Secret, but the Truth About Her Connection to Mark Was Nothing Like We Expected
The Man Everyone Else Feared Was the One Person My Daughter Ran Toward Without Hesitation
Part 10 of 12
