Chapter 16 - THE GAME
I stood frozen in that kitchen for a very long time, photograph burning in my hand. The police could not help me. There was no evidence. No fingerprints. No trail. He had come and gone like a shadow.
But he had made one mistake.
If he wanted me to know he was here… then he wanted me to react. He wanted me to run. To hide. To look over my shoulder. He wanted to control my life from the shadows just as he had always done.
I would not give him that satisfaction.
I burned the photograph in the kitchen sink. I watched it turn to ash and washed the black dust away.
If he wanted a game… then I would play by my own rules.
I did not move. I did not tell Noah. I did not pack our bags. Instead, I tightened the security. I installed cameras at every entrance. I changed our routine so that no two days were exactly alike. I walked Noah to school and I walked him home. I never let him out of my sight.
And I waited.
Every day I watched. Every night I stayed awake. I became the hunter instead of the prey. If he was watching us… then I would be watching right back.
Two weeks passed. Nothing happened.
Then Noah came home from school one afternoon and handed me a folded piece of paper.
“A nice old man gave this to me,” he said innocently. “He said it was from an old friend of Mommy’s.”
My heart stopped.
I unfolded it. Inside was a sketch. Drawn in fine, dark pencil. It showed Claire standing by the lake. The very last photograph taken of her. And beneath it, written in elegant script: She was always far too beautiful to bury.
I gripped the paper until my knuckles turned white. He was taunting me. Rubbing my own loss in my face. Reminding me exactly what he had taken from me.
“Did this man say anything else?” I asked Noah, struggling to keep my voice calm.
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“He said to tell you,” Noah recited slowly, “that old debts must be paid. And that he is waiting for you at the place where it all began.”
The boathouse.
