Hour of Need (Scarlet Falls #1)(82)

Grant’s torso tilted forward. “Do you have copies of the texts?” When Mrs. Hamilton nodded, he asked. “Would you mind letting me read them? I promise to bring them back.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter now. It’s not an open case. I’ll make you a copy.” Mrs. Hamilton rose and left the room. She returned in a few minutes with a sheaf of papers in her hand. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but thank you. Since your brother died, we haven’t been able to find another lawyer who will take the case.” She paused. “That’s not entirely true. We’ve actually had dozens of attorneys calling and knocking on the door, but none have been of the same caliber as Lee. We didn’t want to damage our case by hiring someone disreputable. We wanted to be taken seriously.”

“I won’t share these with anyone, and if I discover anything, I’ll let you know.” Grant stood. “Thank you for your time.”

Mrs. Hamilton showed them to the door, and they returned to the car.

“What do you think?” Ellie fastened her seat belt.

“They blame each other and themselves. He wanted to move back. She didn’t want to give up. So he feels guilty for not fighting for his daughter, and she feels guilty for her decisions.”

“It’s a toxic environment. I wonder how their marriage fared before Lindsay’s death.”

“Who knows?” Grant turned the car around. “Having your child commit suicide could break anyone, but then again, the fact that they couldn’t really come to an agreement over their daughter’s predicament tells me they likely had problems before it happened.”

Ellie’s purse buzzed. She fished her phone out of the side pocket. Her nerves quivered. “I don’t know that number.”

“Is it the same number he used to threaten you before?”

“No.” Ellie pressed the message bubble.

“He’s probably using a burner phone once and destroying it. That’s what I would do.”

She read the message aloud. “I didn’t tell you to talk to the Hamiltons.”

Grant’s gaze swept their surroundings. “I don’t see how anyone could know we were here.”

Ellie glanced behind them. “Unless he was watching the Hamilton’s house from the woods.”

“How would he know to do that?” At the end of the driveway, Grant stopped the car and got out.

“What?” Ellie followed him.

“How did he know where we were?” Grant circled the vehicle. “Do you have a flashlight in the glove box?”

“Yes.” Ellie got it for him.

She rubbed her biceps against the breeze as he circled her car, running his hands under the bumper and fenders. He dropped to the ground and shone the light across the vehicle’s undercarriage.

“Damn it.” He pulled off a two-inch black box that had been duct-taped to the undercarriage of her minivan.

“What is it?”

“Looks like a GPS tracker.”

“Oh my God.” Ellie’s jaw dropped. She put a hand over her mouth. “He can track my movements with that?”

“Yes.”

“Will he know you took it off the car?”

“No, as long as it’s still transmitting, he’ll just assume your van is where the unit is located.” Grant got to his feet. “I know I promised I wouldn’t tell McNamara, but I think we should call him.”

“He said he’d hurt my family if I did that.” Fear gathered in Ellie’s throat.

Grant held up the device. “But we’re no closer to delivering that file.”

Tears burned at the corners of Ellie’s eyes. What should she do? Grant was right. His thirty-six-hour promise had expired, but he was asking, not forcing her to change her mind. She couldn’t deliver what Hoodie Man wanted. But going against his instructions and involving the police felt dangerous.

“Look, I can’t stand sitting back and letting this all play out without taking action. How about we go back to Lee’s, we’ll read through these texts, and we’ll make a plan?”

Ellie’s phone buzzed again. “He sent another message.”

Get that file by tomorrow or your family is dead.





Chapter Thirty-One


Grant looked up from the page of text messages on the desk. “These are really nasty.”

“They are.” Sitting across from him, Ellie had her own stack of papers attached to a clipboard. “What kind of kid tells another to kill herself?”

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter how nasty the messages were if no one can prove who sent them.”

Ellie rubbed the back of her neck. “I don’t know what to do. He’s going to message me tomorrow. We don’t have the file.”

“We have two options. We could call the police. Or we could make our own file. He has no way of knowing it isn’t the real file.”

“I never thought of that.” Ellie shifted backward, her skeleton straightening as the small hope he’d just presented gave her strength.

“I’m still thinking, but I think I can do even better than that.” A couple of ideas were rolling around in his head. The thought of taking this campaign on the offense sent a bolt of energy through him. His desire to personally take care of Lee’s killer was the real reason he hadn’t insisted Ellie call the police. “Have you found any clues in those texts?”