Chapter 8 - THE REAL ENEMYBackup power restored the lights.
Police surrounded the house.
Nobody moved.
The detective looked at my phone.
“Don't respond.”
I nodded.
Another message arrived.
THOMAS KNEW. YOU STILL DON'T.
Then an attachment.
A video.
I played it.
Thomas appeared on screen.
Alive.
Sitting in his office.
The recording was dated three days before his death.
He looked exhausted.
“Ellie,” he said.
“If you're watching this, something happened.”
My breath caught.
“I need you to know something.”
He leaned closer.
“Richard Monroe isn't the person running this.”
The video stopped.
I stared.
The detective immediately began working on the file.
“There may be more.”
There was.
A second video.
Thomas continued.
“There's someone above Richard.”
He looked over his shoulder.
“I don't know their name.”
Then he said something that made my heart stop.
“They live in our neighborhood.”
I looked toward the windows.
The neighborhood.
Someone nearby.
Someone who had watched everything.
Someone who knew when Monica charged her Tesla.
Someone who knew my electricity usage.
Someone who knew about Thomas.
I began thinking.
Who had access?
Who had been around for years?
Then I remembered.
Mr. Harris.
He had always been friendly.
He had known Thomas.
He had helped him after his accident.
He had been one of the first people to tell me Thomas's death was probably unavoidable.
I shook my head.
No.
It couldn't be.
But then the detective received a message.
He looked at me.
“There's a warrant for Mr. Harris's property.”
We drove there.
The garage was locked.
Inside, investigators found computer equipment.
Hard drives.
Cameras.
And photographs.
Hundreds.
Every house on the block.
Including mine.
Mr. Harris wasn't home.
But his computer was still running.
A file was open.
PHASE THREE — COMPLETE.
Then another folder.
THOMAS BROOKS — FAILURE.
I felt dizzy.
“He wasn't supposed to die,” the detective said.
I stared.
“What?”
The detective read the notes.
“Thomas was supposed to be pressured into giving them the files.”
“So the accident…”
“May not have been planned.”
“Then what happened?”
A final video opened automatically.
Thomas was driving.
The camera showed rain.
Headlights.
Then another vehicle appeared behind him.
A black SUV.
The same SUV that had watched my house.
I covered my mouth.
The video ended.
The detective looked at me.
“We need to find that vehicle.”
Then my phone rang.
No number.
I answered.
A man's voice said:
“You finally understand.”
“Who are you?”
A pause.
Then:
“The person Thomas was trying to protect you from.”
“Where are you?”
“Closer than you think.”
The line went dead.
May you like
I looked outside.
Across the street, the black SUV was parked.
