CHAPTER 3: The Men Outside the Door
The apartment fell into complete silence.
Three people stopped breathing at the same time.
Nathaniel instinctively stepped between Rebecca and the front door.
Emma looked up from the hallway, still clutching a box of crayons.
"Mommy..."
Her tiny voice trembled.
"Who's outside?"
Rebecca forced herself to smile.
"No one you need to worry about, sweetheart."
But her hands were shaking so badly she could barely stand.
The knock came again.
Harder.
More deliberate.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
"Ms. Walsh."
The man's voice remained calm.
"We know Mr. Grant is inside."
Nathaniel's eyes narrowed.
His name.
They already knew.
Which meant someone had followed them from the coffee shop...
Or someone had been watching Rebecca long before today.
Neither possibility was good.
Nathaniel quietly pulled out his phone.
No signal.
He frowned.
One bar...
Then none.
"That's strange."
Rebecca whispered,
"It isn't."
He looked at her.
"My signal disappears every time they come."
"What?"
"They park something outside."
"I don't know what it is."
"But our phones stop working."
Nathaniel immediately understood.
A signal jammer.
Illegal.
Expensive.
Military-grade equipment wasn't something ordinary criminals carried.
Whoever was outside had resources.
Emma tugged gently on Nathaniel's sleeve.
"Mister Nathan?"
He knelt to her level.
"Yes?"
"Are the bad men back?"
Rebecca's face froze.
Nathaniel looked slowly toward her.
"Back?"
Emma nodded innocently.
"The men who keep asking Mommy questions."
Rebecca closed her eyes.
"Emma..."
"You said not to tell strangers."
Nathaniel spoke softly.
"I'm not a stranger anymore."
Rebecca looked exhausted.
"No."
"I suppose you're not."
Another loud knock.
This one rattled the old apartment door.
"Last chance."
"Open the door."
Nathaniel quietly scanned the room.
One entrance.
One fire escape through the kitchen.
Second floor.
Possible exit.
Not ideal.
He looked at Rebecca.
"Tell me everything."
She swallowed hard.
"They've been coming for almost three years."
"Who are they?"
"I don't know."
"What do they want?"
"The journal."
Nathaniel looked down at Michael's notebook.
"You've had this the entire time?"
Rebecca nodded.
"I tried to give it to the police."
"What happened?"
"They told me there wasn't enough evidence."
"And then?"
"The detective handling the case retired the next week."
Nathaniel's expression darkened.
Convenient.
Too convenient.
The pounding suddenly stopped.
The silence was worse.
Nathaniel carefully walked toward the peephole.
Two men.
Dark suits.
No uniforms.
No badges.
One wore an expensive watch.
The other had a small scar beneath his left eye.
Neither looked nervous.
Professional.
The taller man suddenly smiled.
Without looking toward the peephole.
Almost as if...
He knew Nathaniel was watching.
Then he spoke.
"Mr. Grant."
"We're not here to hurt anyone."
"We simply need a conversation."
Nathaniel didn't answer.
The man continued.
"Your brother would have wanted it that way."
Nathaniel's blood ran cold.
Behind him, Rebecca whispered,
"They've never mentioned Michael before."
Nathaniel turned.
"What?"
"Never."
"They always pretended they were collecting old paperwork."
"So why mention him now?"
Rebecca looked terrified.
"Because now they know you believe me."
Nathaniel's phone vibrated.
One bar had returned.
An unknown number.
He answered quietly.
"Hello?"
Only breathing.
Then...
A familiar voice.
Weak.
Distorted.
Almost impossible.
"...Nathan..."
His entire body froze.
No.
It couldn't be.
"...don't..."
Static swallowed the sentence.
Then came the words that shattered everything.
"...they're listening..."
The call disconnected.
Nathaniel stared at the screen.
Rebecca saw his face.
"What happened?"
He looked up slowly.
"I just heard my brother's voice."
Rebecca's knees nearly buckled.
Outside...
The suited men heard the ringtone end.
The taller one sighed.
"So."
"He answered."
His partner looked irritated.
"Should we go in?"
"Not yet."
"He needs another minute."
Another black SUV rolled quietly to the curb.
Then another.
Tinted windows.
Luxury vehicles.
No license plates.
Six more men stepped out.
Nathaniel watched through the curtains.
"This isn't about one notebook."
Rebecca whispered,
"I told you."
"They've never stopped looking."
Emma walked into the living room carrying a stuffed rabbit.
She looked from one frightened adult to the other.
Then quietly asked,
"Are we going to hide again?"
Nathaniel looked sharply toward Rebecca.
"Again?"
Rebecca could no longer hold back the truth.
"For the last five years..."
She whispered,
"...Emma and I have moved eleven times."
Nathaniel stared.
"Eleven?"
"They always find us."
"How?"
"I don't know."
"We change schools."
"We change apartments."
"We change phone numbers."
"They always come."
Emma hugged her rabbit tighter.
"I don't like moving."
Rebecca gently stroked her daughter's hair.
"I know, baby."
Nathaniel looked around the apartment.
Nothing expensive.
Nothing unusual.
Except...
The old backpack Emma had carried that morning.
It sat open beside the couch.
A corner of something metallic peeked out.
Nathaniel walked over.
"Emma..."
"What's inside your backpack?"
She smiled proudly.
"My treasure."
Before Rebecca could stop her...
Emma reached inside.
And pulled out a small silver flash drive attached to a faded blue keychain.
Rebecca gasped.
"No..."
Nathaniel looked between them.
"What is this?"
Rebecca's voice broke.
"I thought I lost it."
Emma blinked.
"It was inside the memory box."
"I wanted to keep it safe."
Nathaniel examined the flash drive.
There was only one word engraved on the metal.
TRUTH.
At that exact moment...
The men outside saw it through the apartment window.
The scar-faced man grabbed his radio.
"Target confirmed."
"The drive is inside."
The taller man stopped pretending.
His smile disappeared.
"Forget the journal."
"Get the flash drive."
"No matter who gets hurt."
A split second later—
The apartment lights went out.
Total darkness.
Emma screamed.
Rebecca grabbed her daughter.
Nathaniel heard the unmistakable sound that made every instinct in his body ignite.
The front door lock...
May you like
Was being drilled open from the outside.
— End of Chapter 3 —
