Chapter 6 - The Anonymous EnemyI stared at the glowing screen of my phone, the words burning into my retinas like acid.
You think putting Preston away solves your problems, Evelyn? You pulled the trigger on our family. Now you and the brat pay the price. Watch your back.
"Mommy? Who is that?" Sophie asked, tilting her head as she noticed the sudden tension in my posture.
I quickly locked the screen and slid the phone deep into my pocket, forcing a bright, reassuring smile onto my face. "Just a telemarketer, sweetheart. Nothing to worry about."
"Oh. Can we get chocolate pudding from the cafeteria?"
"We can get all the chocolate pudding you want," I said, kissing her forehead. "Let me just step out into the hallway for one quick second to talk to the nurse about your discharge papers, okay?"
"Okay!"
I eased myself off the bed, walked out into the brightly lit hospital corridor, and let the heavy door click shut behind me. The smile vanished from my face instantly, replaced by a mask of hardened determination.
I pulled the phone back out, opened the text message, and hit Call on the unknown number.
It rang twice before a robotic carrier voice answered: The number you have dialed is not in service. Please check the number and try again.
A burner phone app. Classic coward's move.
My mind raced. Who sent it? It couldn't be Preston—he was currently sitting in a holding cell at the 1st District police precinct awaiting his arraignment hearing in the morning. My father didn't know how to use burner apps, and my mother was too busy trying to salvage her country club membership to track my movements.
That meant there was someone else. Someone within the Miller family's inner circle—or worse, one of Preston's shady business associates who had a financial stake in keeping the family secrets buried.
I needed professional help. Not police help—at least, not yet. I needed someone who knew how to hunt rats in the dark.
I tapped my contacts list and dialed a number I hadn't used in five years.
It rang three times before a deep, gravelly voice answered. "Yeah?"
"Marcus?" I said, keeping my voice low and steady.
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. "Evelyn? Is that you? Damn, kid. I heard about what went down at the Whitmore tonight. Are you and the little one okay?"
Marcus Thorne used to be my lead investigator back when I worked corporate compliance for my father’s firm before I was pushed out. He was a former federal cyber-crimes investigator turned private security specialist.
"Sophie is safe in her hospital room, but I just received an anonymous threat," I said, reading the text message aloud to him word for word. "Someone is watching us, Marcus. And they’re not happy that Preston is behind bars."
A low whistle came over the speaker. "Sent via a spoofed VoIP number routed through a server in Prague. Standard burner protocol. Whoever sent it knows what they're doing."
"Can you trace it?"
"Give me twenty minutes," Marcus said, his tone shifting into professional gear. "I’ve still got backdoor access to some telecom relay nodes from my DHS days. Stay put in that hospital room, lock the door, and don't let anyone in unless they show you a badge or my face."
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"Got it. Call me the second you find something."
I hung up, took a deep breath to steady my nerves, and pushed open the door to Room 412, ready to protect my daughter at any cost.
