Chapter 7: Three Knocks
The sound came again.
*Knock.*
A pause.
*Knock.*
Another pause.
*Knock.*
Daniel stared at the garage door.
His mother's fingers tightened around his arm.
“Michael,” Angela whispered, “don't.””
Michael was already moving.
He picked up the heavy flashlight hanging beside the workbench and walked toward the house.
Daniel followed.
“Dad, wait.””
Michael stopped at the garage entrance.
“Stay behind me.””
“Who do you think is out there?””
“I don't know.””
“Then don't open the door.””
Michael looked back at him.
“You heard the knocks.””
“So did you.””
“And if someone's standing outside our house at midnight, I need to know who.””
Angela rushed toward them.
“Michael, please.””
He turned.
“What?””
“I don't want Daniel involved.””
Daniel stepped forward.
“I'm already involved.””
She looked at him.
“No, you're not.””
“Mom, someone took a picture of us through the garage window.””
Her face tightened.
“They could have been watching us for days.””
“I know.””
“And someone just told us Victor didn't take that letter.””
“I know.””
“And now someone is knocking on our door.””
“I know, Daniel.””
“Then stop trying to protect me from something that's already here.””
Angela's mouth trembled.
Michael quietly unlocked the interior door.
He opened it only an inch.
The hallway was dark.
No footsteps.
No voices.
Nothing.
He opened it wider.
The living room lamp was still on.
Daniel looked toward the front entrance.
“No one?””
Michael walked carefully through the house.
Daniel and Angela followed.
The three of them reached the front door.
Michael checked the security camera monitor beside the bookshelf.
The screen showed the front porch.
Empty.
The rain had stopped again.
Water glistened on the pavement beneath the porch light.
Nobody was there.
Daniel frowned.
“Maybe they left.””
Michael pointed at the screen.
“Look.””
A small notification flashed at the bottom.
*Camera signal lost — 11:54 p.m.*
Daniel's heart dropped.
“When did it stop?””
“Six minutes ago.””
“Right before the picture was taken.””
Angela pressed a hand to her mouth.
Michael opened the front door.
“Stay inside.””
He stepped onto the porch.
“Dad!””
Michael raised one hand.
He walked toward the driveway.
Then stopped.
Something was lying near the mailbox.
A small brown envelope.
Daniel opened the door wider.
Michael picked it up.
He looked at the front.
Then his face went rigid.
“What?””
Daniel stepped closer.
Michael turned the envelope around.
On the front were four words.
*For Angela — Read Alone.*
Angela shook her head immediately.
“No.””
Michael handed it to her.
She didn't take it.
Daniel whispered, “Mom.””
She looked at the envelope.
Then at him.
Her eyes filled with fear.
“I know that handwriting.””
Daniel's stomach dropped.
“Whose?””
“My brother's.””
Michael stared at her.
“That can't be.””
“I know what his handwriting looks like.””
Daniel looked at the envelope.
“Victor?””
Angela nodded.
“But he's dead.””
“Yes.””
Daniel swallowed.
“Then how did this get here?””
Michael closed the front door.
Nobody answered.
They moved back into the living room.
Angela placed the envelope on the coffee table.
She stared at it.
“Don't open it,” Michael said.
Daniel frowned.
“Why?””
“Because if Victor really wrote that before he died, we need to know when.””
Angela touched the envelope but pulled her hand away.
“There won't be a date.””
Michael looked at her.
“You've seen it?””
“Not this one.””
“Then how do you know?””
“Because Victor always did that.””
Daniel watched his mother's face.
She looked like she was staring at something that existed in another lifetime.
“He hated dates,” she whispered.
“Why?”” Daniel asked.
“Because dates leave evidence.””
Michael exchanged a glance with him.
Daniel sat down.
“Tell me about him.””
Angela shook her head.
“There isn't much to tell.””
“That isn't true.””
“You already know enough.””
“No.””
Daniel leaned forward.
“You spent years being afraid of him.””
Angela closed her eyes.
“I spent years trying to keep him away from you.””
“What was he like?””
She took a long breath.
“Charming.””
Daniel frowned.
“That doesn't sound right.””
“That is exactly why he was dangerous.””
She looked at Michael.
“He could walk into a room and make everyone feel like he belonged there.””
Michael nodded.
“He could make cruelty sound like advice.””
Angela looked down.
“He'd say things like, ‘I'm only trying to help.’”
Daniel felt a chill.
“Like what?””
“Like when your grandfather changed the will.””
She paused.
“Victor told me I was being selfish for letting the inheritance go to you.””
Daniel stared.
“He said you should have taken it?””
“He said I should have used it to pay off our debts.””
“But it was mine.””
“He didn't see it that way.””
“What did Grandpa think?””
Angela's expression softened.
“Your grandfather knew exactly what Victor was doing.””
Michael added, “That's why the second letter mattered.””
Daniel pointed to the brown envelope.
“Maybe it's in there.””
Angela stared at it.
“What if it is?””
“Then open it.””
“No.””
“Mom.””
“No.””
She stood abruptly.
“I can't do this again.””
Daniel stood too.
“You've been doing this for years.””
She looked at him.
“I know.””
“So let me help.””
Angela's eyes filled.
“You don't understand.””
“Then explain it.””
She hesitated.
Michael spoke quietly.
“Angela, he's old enough.””
She gave him a wounded look.
“You said we'd protect him.””
“I said we'd protect him from Victor.””
Michael pointed to the envelope.
“I didn't say we'd protect him from the truth.””
Angela stared at both of them.
Finally, she sat down.
Her hands shook as she opened the envelope.
Inside was a single folded sheet.
No photograph.
No legal document.
Just handwriting.
Victor's handwriting.
Daniel could recognize it even though he had seen it only once, years ago.
Angela read the first line.
Her face drained of color.
“What?””
Michael leaned closer.
Angela handed him the page.
Michael read silently.
His jaw tightened.
Daniel reached for it.
Michael gave it to him.
Daniel read.
Angela,
If you are reading this, then something has gone wrong.
Daniel's eyes moved downward.
You know what I did.
His breathing stopped.
You know why I wanted the house.
It was never about the house.
Daniel looked up.
“Keep going,” Michael said.
Daniel did.
Your father's original records were never destroyed.
The money I took was never the whole problem.
The problem was the account I opened in Daniel's name.
Daniel froze.
“What account?””
Angela covered her mouth.
Michael stared at the paper.
Daniel continued reading.
When Daniel was twenty-one, I transferred funds using documents that looked legitimate.
I expected no one to notice.
Your father noticed.
Daniel's eyes widened.
He looked at Michael.
“You knew?””
Michael shook his head.
“I knew something was wrong. I didn't know what.””
Daniel read the next paragraph.
The account still exists.
The money still exists.
And the person who has access to it is not Daniel.
Silence.
Daniel felt cold all over.
“Who?””
Angela whispered, “Victor.””
“But he died.””
Michael's voice was low.
“Maybe he transferred the access before he died.””
Daniel kept reading.
If I die before this is corrected, someone else will come looking for the account.
They won't care about your family.
They'll care about the money.
At the bottom was one final line.
And Daniel must never be told where the account is until you know who is watching the house.
Daniel lowered the page.
Someone was watching the house.
Now the message made sense.
The photograph.
The security camera.
The knocks.
Someone wanted to know whether they had found the truth.
Daniel looked at his parents.
“So the inheritance is still out there.””
Michael nodded slowly.
“Apparently.””
“And someone has access.””
“Yes.””
“Who?””
“We don't know.””
Daniel's eyes hardened.
“Then why would they contact me?””
Angela suddenly grabbed his wrist.
“They're using you.””
Daniel looked at her.
“What?””
“They want us to tell you everything.””
“Why?””
“Because they know you won't stop once you know.””
Daniel glanced at the letter.
“They're right.””
Michael nodded.
“But there's something else.””
“What?””
Michael pointed at the bottom of the page.
Daniel hadn't noticed the small handwritten words beneath Victor's signature.
A date.
*September 28.*
Today's date.
Daniel's heart slammed against his ribs.
“No.””
Michael took the paper.
“It can't be.””
Angela whispered, “Victor died eight years ago.””
Daniel stared at the date.
“He couldn't have written this today.””
“No,” Michael said.
“But someone could.””
The room went silent.
Daniel looked toward the windows.
For the first time, he noticed the curtains were slightly open.
A thin gap showed the dark street outside.
He walked toward it.
“Daniel,” Angela said sharply.
He stopped.
Something was moving across the street.
A figure stood beneath the trees.
Too far away to see the face.
Daniel stepped closer to the window.
The figure lifted one arm.
Then pointed directly at the house.
Michael grabbed Daniel's shoulder.
“Get away from the window.””
The figure turned.
And ran.
Daniel watched through the glass.
“Dad.””
Michael rushed to the front door.
Daniel followed him.
Angela stayed behind, clutching the letter.
Michael opened the door and ran onto the porch.
But the street was empty.
Then Daniel heard a faint metallic sound beneath the porch.
He looked down.
A phone was lying between the steps.
Its screen was glowing.
One new message.
Daniel picked it up.
The sender name was not a number.
It was one word.
*Victor.*
May you like
The message contained only six words:
*“Now ask your father what he did.””*
