STAY AWAY FROM THOMAS MORGAN. YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HE IS CAPABLE OF.
Below it was a photograph.
Hannah and Dad leaving the restaurant.
The image had been captured from across the street.
Dad held the door for her.
Hannah was laughing.
“When did you receive this?”
“About twenty minutes after I got home.”
I scrolled.
There were more messages.
The sender knew Hannah’s address.
Her workplace.
The name of her younger brother, Lucas.
Then I reached the final threat.
IF YOU CONTACT THOMAS OR MAYA AGAIN, LUCAS WILL LEARN WHAT HAPPENED IN ASHFORD THREE YEARS AGO.
I looked at Hannah.
“What happened in Ashford?”
Shame filled her expression.
“Nothing criminal.”
She looked toward the pavement.
“Lucas was struggling with addiction three years ago. He disappeared for two days. I found him inside a motel and brought him home.”
“Who knows?”
“My parents. Me. One other person.”
“How could this sender know?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did you send the message telling me not to contact you?”
“Because the threat arrived seconds after your first call.”
Cold spread through my body.
The sender had not only followed Hannah.
They were watching our communication.
“Forward everything to me.”
Hannah hesitated.
“I don’t want Lucas dragged into this.”
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t. He has rebuilt his life. If this becomes public—”
“It won’t come from me.”
She eventually forwarded every photograph and message.
“Be careful,” she said.
“This is not a jealous stranger.”
“You think Dad is involved?”
“I think someone close to him is.”
I wanted to defend him immediately.
Instead, I remembered his anger when I questioned the dates.
My Father’s House
Dad opened the door wearing an old sweatshirt and house slippers.
His hair was uncombed.
Dark circles rested beneath his eyes.
“Hannah has not answered me.”
The pain in his voice sounded genuine.
“Did I say something wrong?”
I stepped inside.
“Someone threatened her.”
His face became still.
“What?”
I showed him the messages.
Dad read each one slowly.
Confusion turned into fear.
“This happened after our date?”
“Yes.”
“We need to contact the police.”
“I told Hannah the same thing.”
“Then why are you here?”
I studied his face.
“Because the sender knows personal information about her. They also knew when I called.”
Dad stared at me.
“You believe I sent these?”
“I do not know what to believe.”
He sank onto the sofa.
For one moment, he appeared older than I had ever seen him.
“I would never hurt her.”
“Then help me understand why every woman disappears.”
“I cannot.”
I walked through the house.
Nothing looked unusual.
His laptop sat on the dining table.
His telephone lay beside it.
“May I check your phone?”
Dad hesitated for one second.
Then handed it to me.
“Of course.”
There were no hidden applications.
No suspicious calls.
No temporary-number services.
No messages to the women after they stopped responding except polite questions asking whether they were all right.
Then I noticed a notification from a home-security application.
