Chapter 3 - The Police Officer Who Called Me Imaginative Was Secretly Selling My School RecordsThe next morning, Vincent's people arrived before sunrise.
My mother wanted me to stay home.
I wanted to go to school.
Vincent disagreed with both of us.
“You're not going.”
“But I have a test.”
“You can take it later.”
“My teacher will be angry.”
“I'll speak to your teacher.”
“You'll scare her.”
He looked almost amused.
“I can be polite.”
My mother coughed.
Vincent glanced at her.
“I promise.”
We stayed home.
At nine-thirty, his man returned.
“Sir.”
Vincent looked up.
“What did you find?”
“The officer.”
“Name?”
“Daniel Price.”
My mother gasped.
“That can't be.”
“Why?”
“He was the officer who spoke to Leora.”
Vincent's face hardened.
“What else?”
“He accessed her school file twelve times.”
I felt cold.
“Why?”
The man placed a folder on the table.
“He also accessed her mother's employment records.”
My mother stared at it.
Then he added:
“And her father's old death certificate.”
Vincent slowly closed the folder.
“Where is Price?”
“He left his apartment twenty minutes ago.”
“Follow him.”
The man nodded.
I looked at Vincent.
“Is he the stalker?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
Vincent shook his head.
“We're not going to accuse anyone without proof.”
“But you know he's bad.”
“I know he lied.”
“Isn't that enough?”
“For a seven-year-old, maybe.”
He looked at me seriously.
“But if you want to survive around dangerous people, you learn the difference between suspicion and evidence.”
I remembered the photograph.
“The piece of paper you put on the car.”
“Evidence.”
“Yes.”
He smiled.
“Exactly.”
That afternoon, Vincent took me to the restaurant.
I sat at the same table.
He gave me hot chocolate.
“You like this?”
I nodded.
He looked at me.
“You're not afraid of me.”
I thought about it.
“Yes, I am.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“But you came to me.”
“I was more afraid of the car.”
For the first time, Vincent laughed.
It was quiet.
Almost normal.
Then his phone rang.
His expression changed.
“Found him?”
A pause.
“Where?”
Another pause.
“Don't touch him.”
He stood.
“I'll be there.”
I watched him leave.
Twenty minutes later, he returned.
He placed a folder in front of me.
“Daniel Price isn't your stalker.”
“Then why was he following me?”
“He wasn't.”
“Then who was?”
Vincent opened the folder.
Inside was a photograph of the gray sedan.
Then another.
Then another.
Different days.
Different locations.
Same car.
Same driver.
“He has been following you for twenty-one days.”
I stared at the photographs.
“Why?”
Vincent turned the final page.
It showed my father's photograph.
My name was written underneath.
Then another name.
ELIAS BLACKWOOD.
Vincent stared at it.
“That's my younger brother.”
“What about him?”
“He died eighteen years ago.”
I looked at the page.
“Then why is his name here?”
Vincent didn't answer.
Because someone had added another note beneath it.
THE GIRL KNOWS WHERE THE LEDGER IS.
I looked up.
“What ledger?”
Vincent's face was completely still.
May you like
“I don't know.”
But I knew he was lying.
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