Chapter 7: The Person Behind the Screen
My father read the message twice.
Then he looked at me.
“Jordan, don't respond.””
“I wasn't going to.””
“Good.””
Detective Harris took my phone from my hand.
“Don't delete anything.””
“I won't.””
She photographed the screen.
The younger officer moved closer.
“Detective, the transfer just went through.””
Harris looked at her tablet.
“Eighteen thousand?””
“Yes.””
My father clenched his jaw.
“Where did it go?””
“A business account.””
“What business?””
The officer turned the tablet toward her.
“Wright Property Solutions.””
Ryan suddenly went rigid.
“That name…”
Harris looked at him.
“You know it?””
Ryan nodded slowly.
“That's the company they use.””
“Who?””
Ryan looked toward me.
“The people I told you about.””
My father stepped closer.
“You said you borrowed money from dangerous people.””
“I did.””
“Who are they?””
Ryan hesitated.
“Gideon Wright.””
The name meant nothing to me.
It meant something to Detective Harris.
Her expression sharpened.
“Gideon Wright?””
Ryan nodded.
“You've heard of him?””
“I've heard the name.””
She turned to the younger officer.
“Run the company.””
He immediately began typing.
My father looked at Ryan.
“How did you get involved with him?””
Ryan rubbed both hands over his face.
“I started gambling.””
Claire whispered, “Ryan…”
He ignored her.
“I lost money. Borrowed some. Lost more. Eventually I owed him almost thirty thousand.””
“So you stole from me.””
“Yes.””
“And Claire helped you.””
“Yes.””
“And then you framed Jordan.””
Ryan nodded.
“But Wright didn't know about that part.””
Detective Harris looked up.
“Why not?””
“Because I told him I'd pay him back.””
“With stolen money.””
“Yes.””
She stared at him.
“Then why would he be transferring money through Jordan's account?””
Ryan swallowed.
“Because he realized I wasn't going to pay.””
My father frowned.
“You're saying Wright took over the scheme?””
“I think so.””
“You think?””
Ryan looked at me.
“He doesn't trust people who owe him money.””
I felt my phone vibrate again in Detective Harris's hand.
She checked it.
Another message.
This time there was no photograph.
Only an address.
*1147 Mercer Street.*
Underneath it:
*Come alone.*
My father immediately said, “No.””
I looked at the address.
“That's the old warehouse district.””
Detective Harris nodded.
“I know.””
Ryan's face changed.
“Don't go there.””
“I wasn't planning to.””
“You don't understand.””
Ryan stepped closer.
“That's where Gideon keeps records.””
My father stared at him.
“What kind of records?””
“Everything.””
“Everything?””
“Names. Payments. Threats.
Copies of IDs. Bank information.””
I looked at Detective Harris.
“If he has my information…”
“He probably does,” she said.
My father turned toward Ryan.
“How did he get it?””
Ryan shook his head.
“I don't know.””
I suddenly remembered the envelope in my room.
The fake bank statement.
The old driver's license.
The account opened eleven months ago.
Then something clicked.
“Wait.””
Everyone looked at me.
“The account was opened eleven months ago.””
Ryan nodded.
“So?””
“I wasn't living here then.””
My father frowned.
“You were at school.””
“Exactly.””
Claire slowly looked up.
“You were home that summer.””
I stared at her.
“For two weeks.””
“Your documents were here.””
My father turned toward Claire.
“You had access.””
She shook her head.
“I didn't open the account.””
“But someone used Jordan's information.””
Ryan said quietly, “Maybe someone copied it.””
Detective Harris looked at Claire.
“Who had access to your house during that summer?””
Claire opened her mouth.
Then stopped.
I saw the answer on her face before she said it.
“Evan.””
My stomach dropped.
“My roommate?””
“He came here with you.””
I remembered.
Evan had visited during summer break.
He had slept in the guest room.
He'd joked about how my family was “too normal.””
I'd introduced him to everyone.
I'd trusted him.
Detective Harris asked, “Did he ever use your computer?””
“Yes.””
“When?””
“I don't know.””
“Did he ever photograph your documents?””
“Not that I know of.””
Ryan suddenly said, “He doesn't need to.””
I looked at him.
“What does that mean?””
“People like Wright don't need to steal your identity themselves.””
Ryan pointed at me.
“They buy it.””
My father went still.
“From whom?””
Ryan looked at Claire.
She shook her head.
“No.””
Ryan said, “From people close to the victim.””
The room became silent.
I looked at Claire.
Then Maya.
Then my father.
Someone close to me had given them my information.
Someone who knew my routines.
Someone who knew when I was away.
Someone who knew where my documents were.
My phone buzzed again.
Detective Harris looked down.
A new message appeared.
*Stop asking questions.*
Then another.
*Your father has ten minutes.*
My father stared at the screen.
“Ten minutes for what?””
A final message appeared.
*Ask Claire what happened to the missing file.*
Everyone turned toward her.
Claire's face went white.
“What file?””
I looked at her.
“Mom?””
Maya stepped closer.
“Mom, what file?””
Claire backed away.
“I don't know.””
Detective Harris's voice hardened.
“Mrs. Williams, you need to start telling the truth.””
“I am.””
“No. You're telling us pieces.””
My father walked toward Claire.
“What file?””
She shook her head.
“Marcus…”
“What file?””
“I don't know what they mean.””
Ryan suddenly laughed bitterly.
“You know exactly what they mean.””
Claire looked at him.
“Shut up.””
“You kept it in the safe.””
My father turned.
“What safe?””
Claire's eyes closed.
“The one in our bedroom.””
I had never known there was a safe.
My father stared at her.
“Open it.””
“Marcus—”
“Open it.””
She didn't move.
He walked upstairs.
We followed.
The safe was hidden behind a framed photograph.
My father entered the code.
The door opened.
Inside were documents, jewelry, and a small black folder.
Claire immediately reached for it.
My father stopped her.
“What is that?””
“Nothing.””
He took it.
The folder had my name on it.
*JORDAN WILLIAMS — ORIGINAL DOCUMENTS*
My blood ran cold.
Inside were photocopies of my birth certificate, Social Security card, driver's license, college enrollment papers, and employment forms.
But beneath them was something I'd never seen.
A photograph.
It showed me at eighteen.
Standing outside my college dorm.
Taken from across the street.
On the back, handwritten in black ink, were four words:
*Subject is ready now.*
Detective Harris stared at it.
“Who took this?””
Claire whispered, “I don't know.””
My father looked at her.
“Who put this in our safe?””
“I don't know.””
Maya picked up another paper.
Her eyes widened.
“Mom.””
Claire didn't respond.
Maya held it up.
“Why is my name here?””
I took the paper.
It was a list.
Names.
Addresses.
Bank accounts.
Dates.
At the top was one word:
*TARGETS.*
My name was first.
Maya's was second.
My father's was third.
Claire's was fourth.
I looked at Ryan.
His name was fifth.
Everyone in the house was on the list.
Then I noticed the last column.
*STATUS.*
Mine said:
*ACTIVE.*
Maya's said:
*ACTIVE.*
My father's said:
*PENDING.*
Claire's said:
*COMPLETE.*
Ryan's said:
*DEBTOR.*
I looked at Claire.
“What does COMPLETE mean?””
She couldn't answer.
My father grabbed the folder.
“Detective.””
Harris took it.
She flipped through the pages.
Then she stopped.
“What?””
I leaned closer.
She was holding a printed photograph.
It showed my father standing beside his car.
The picture had been taken from inside our house.
On the back:
*Marcus Williams knows too much.*
My father's face hardened.
“Someone has been watching us.””
A sound came from downstairs.
A door opening.
We all froze.
Detective Harris reached for her radio.
“Officer.””
The younger officer moved toward the stairs.
Then came footsteps.
Slow.
Heavy.
Someone was walking through the front door.
Ryan whispered,
“Gideon.””
My father looked at me.
“Stay behind me.””
The footsteps stopped.
A man's voice floated up the stairs.
“Marcus?””
Detective Harris raised her weapon.
The voice continued.
“You have something that belongs to me.””
Ryan's face drained of color.
Then the man added:
“And if you don't bring it downstairs, Maya is going to pay for what she told you.””
Maya screamed.
May you like
“Dad!””
And from downstairs came the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.
