Chapter 4 - THE HOUSE WAS NEVER OURS
The police moved me to a safe location.
I thought that would make me feel safe.
It didn't.
Because Michael knew everything about me.
My favorite restaurant.
My mother's address.
My doctor's name.
The route I took to prenatal appointments.
Even the old phone I used to photograph his evidence.
That phone was hidden beneath a loose floorboard.
But when Detective Brooks searched the house again, she found something worse.
A second phone.
Hidden inside the bedroom wall.
It contained hundreds of photographs.
Me sleeping.
Me eating.
Me leaving the house.
Me crying.
Me pregnant.
My stomach turned.
"He was watching you constantly," Detective Brooks said.
I couldn't answer.
Then the phone rang.
Unknown number.
Detective Brooks answered.
No one spoke.
Then a man's voice whispered:
"She was never supposed to see the file."
The line went dead.
Detective Brooks looked at me.
"What file?"
I shook my head.
"I don't know."
She returned to the Carter house.
This time she searched the attic.
Behind a loose wooden panel, she found a black box.
Inside was a stack of documents.
One was a property deed.
The house wasn't owned by Michael.
It was owned by a corporation.
The corporation was registered to Daniel Carter.
Michael's dead father.
But Daniel had supposedly transferred ownership years ago.
Another document showed something stranger.
A trust.
The beneficiary was not Michael.
It was me.
Sarah Miller.
I stared at the paperwork.
"Why would his father leave the house to me?"
Detective Brooks looked troubled.
"We don't know."
Then she found a handwritten letter.
She read it silently.
"What does it say?"
She handed it to me.
My hands trembled.
"Sarah, if you are reading this, Michael has already failed."
I stopped breathing.
The letter continued.
"I tried to protect you from the truth. I was too late."
The words blurred.
"Your mother was not the only woman involved."
I read the next line.
"Your birth was connected to a medical research program funded through Carter Medical."
I looked up.
"What research?"
Detective Brooks took the letter.
"We're going to find out."
Then another sentence caught my eye.
"Michael believes the ink is the key."
I froze.
The black ink.
The tracker.
The metallic particles.
Everything suddenly connected.
But the final line terrified me most.
"Never let Michael learn what is inside Sarah's blood."
I looked at Detective Brooks.
"What does that mean?"
She didn't answer.
Her phone rang.
She listened.
Then she said:
"Send the ambulance."
I stood.
"Why?"
She looked at me.
"Your mother has been found."
"Is she hurt?"
Detective Brooks didn't answer.
"Where is she?"
"At your old house."
My heart stopped.
"Is she alive?"
She finally spoke.
"Yes."
A pause.
May you like
"But Michael got there first."
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