Chapter 4 - THE MAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
Ethan ran through the back door.
Maria's blue sedan was already disappearing down the driveway.
He grabbed his phone.
“Security.”
“Yes, Mr. Cole.”
“Track Maria Alvarez's vehicle.”
A pause.
“Sir?”
“Do it.”
He turned back toward the kitchen.
Sofia was still standing there.
Ethan couldn't leave her alone.
He carried her into the living room and called the police.
An officer arrived twenty minutes later.
Maria's vehicle was eventually found abandoned near a train station.
No Maria.
No explanation.
Only her purse.
Inside was her phone.
The battery had been removed.
Ethan stared at the empty parking space.
Something terrible had happened.
He returned home with Sofia.
The little girl had become unusually quiet.
Ethan crouched in front of her.
“Are you scared?”
She nodded.
“Where is Mommy?”
“I don't know.”
“She'll come back.”
Ethan wanted to believe that.
But he had learned not to promise children things he couldn't control.
“I hope so.”
Sofia looked at him.
“Are you going to leave too?”
The question broke something inside him.
“No.”
She stared.
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
That night, Ethan didn't work.
He sat beside Sofia in the living room until she fell asleep.
At three in the morning, he carried her upstairs.
He stopped outside the nursery.
The door had remained closed for three years.
He had never entered.
But now, holding a sleeping child, he opened it.
The room smelled faintly of cedar and dust.
The crib was still there.
Rachel's unfinished mobile hung above it.
A tiny yellow moon.
A blue star.
A white cloud.
Ethan placed Sofia in the old rocking chair.
She slept peacefully.
He sat beside her.
For the first time in three years, he allowed himself to cry.
The next morning, Detective Laura Mitchell arrived.
She had been assigned to Maria's disappearance.
She listened carefully.
Then she looked at the photograph.
“We know this man.”
Ethan stared.
“Who?”
“His name is Adrian Vale.”
“Who is he?”
“A private investigator.”
Ethan frowned.
“Why was a private investigator following Rachel?”
“We don't know.”
“Where is he now?”
“Dead.”
Ethan went still.
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
Ethan looked at the photograph again.
“Another accident?”
Mitchell nodded.
“That's what the report says.”
A cold silence settled over the room.
Ethan stood.
“Someone is killing people connected to Rachel.”
“We don't know that.”
“But you see the pattern.”
Mitchell didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
Later that day, Ethan discovered something even stranger.
Adrian Vale had worked for Rachel.
Not against her.
For her.
He had been hired to investigate missing company money.
The investigation had stopped two days before Rachel died.
Ethan looked at the files.
There were invoices.
Bank transfers.
Photographs.
And one name.
Gregory Sloan.
Ethan's stomach tightened.
Gregory had lied.
He had known Adrian.
He had known about the investigation.
And he had been at Cole Freight's headquarters the night Rachel died.
Ethan called him.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
He sent security to Gregory's home.
Empty.
His office was empty too.
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
Ethan answered.
“Hello?”
A distorted voice spoke.
“Stop looking.”
Ethan froze.
“Who is this?”
“You don't understand what you're digging into.”
“Where is Maria?”
Silence.
Then:
“Safe.”
Ethan gripped the phone.
“Put her on.”
“No.”
“If you've hurt her—”
“You haven't learned anything.”
“What do you want?”
“The truth to stay buried.”
Ethan's voice became cold.
“You picked the wrong man.”
The caller laughed.
“You stopped being dangerous when Rachel died.”
Ethan froze.
The line went dead.
He immediately contacted Detective Mitchell.
They traced the call.
It came from a prepaid phone.
The location was an abandoned warehouse outside Hartford.
Police searched it.
They found nothing.
Except one thing.
A child's red hair ribbon.
Ethan recognized it.
Sofia wore one exactly like it.
He rushed home.
Sofia was sitting at the kitchen table drawing.
He looked around.
“Where's the ribbon?”
She touched her hair.
“It broke.”
“Where?”
She pointed to the floor.
Ethan saw a second ribbon.
It wasn't hers.
It had been placed deliberately.
Someone had entered the house.
Security reviewed the footage.
There was a thirty-seven-minute gap.
The system had been manually disabled.
Ethan stared at the screen.
“Who has access?”
The head of security listed six people.
One name made Ethan's blood run cold.
Gregory Sloan.
That night, Ethan moved Sofia to a hotel under police protection.
But at two in the morning, his phone rang again.
This time, it was Maria.
Her voice was barely audible.
“Mr. Cole.”
Ethan sat upright.
“Maria?”
“Listen to me.”
“Where are you?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Where is Sofia's father?”
Silence.
Ethan froze.
“Sofia's father?”
Maria began crying.
“I should have told you.”
“Told me what?”
“She isn't my daughter.”
Ethan couldn't breathe.
“What?”
May you like
“She is Rachel's.”
The world stopped.
