PART 5 — THE TWO OTHER HOUSES
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The words from the phone kept echoing in my mind.
“There are two more houses.”
I looked at Silas’s father.
He was staring at me as if he had just heard something he had spent years trying to forget.
“You know who that was,” I said.
He shook his head.
“No.”
“You recognized the voice.”
“I said I don't know.”
His answer came too quickly.
One of the officers stepped closer.
“Sir, if you know something, now is the time to tell us.”
He looked toward the ambulance where his mother was being treated.
Then toward Silas.
Finally, he lowered his head.
“There are two other families.”
“What families?”
“My sister's.”
He swallowed.
“And my uncle's.”
I frowned.
“What do they have to do with this?”
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he said something that changed the entire investigation.
“My mother wasn't the only person who was being watched.”
I looked at the notebook again.
“Watched by whom?”
“My father.”
“Your father is dead?”
He nodded.
“He died six years ago.”
“Then how could he be watching anyone?”
His face went pale.
“Because he left instructions.”
I felt a chill run through me.
“What kind of instructions?”
He looked around the house.
“Financial records. Cameras. Notes. Things he kept hidden.”
One of the officers asked, “Why?”
“My father believed everyone was trying to steal from him.”
He paused.
“But after he died, we discovered something worse.”
He pointed toward the metal box.
“My father had been paying people to monitor our family.”
I opened the envelope again.
Inside were photographs.
Silas's grandmother.
Silas.
His father.
And several other people.
Some photographs had dates written on the back.
Others had locations.
There were photographs of children outside schools.
Adults entering workplaces.
Families sitting inside restaurants.
It wasn't random.
Someone had been tracking them.
I asked, “Who continued doing it after your father died?”
His father stared at the floor.
“I don't know.”
“But you suspected someone.”
He nodded.
“My uncle.”
“Why?”
“Because my father left everything to him.”
I looked at the documents inside the box.
Bank transfers.
Property records.
Names.
Dates.
There was one company listed repeatedly.
Granger Family Holdings.
I asked another officer to photograph everything.
Then Silas suddenly spoke.
“I know the other house.”
Everyone turned toward him.
“You do?”
He nodded.
“Grandma told me.”
“Where is it?”
He pointed to one of the photographs.
“That's Aunt Mara's house.”
I looked at the address.
It was less than twenty minutes away.
Then Silas whispered:
“She told me never to go there alone.”
We immediately contacted officers in that area.
But before we could leave, the paramedics approached.
Silas's grandmother had regained consciousness.
She asked to speak with me.
I went to the ambulance.
Her voice was weak.
“You found the box.”
I nodded.
“How did you know?”
She looked at Silas.
“Because I knew he would eventually tell someone.”
“Who should I be looking for?”
She closed her eyes.
“My husband's brother.”
“Your brother-in-law?”
She nodded.
“His name is Harold.”
I wrote it down.
“Why is he involved?”
Her hands trembled.
“Because he wants the property.”
“What property?”
She looked at me.
“All of it.”
She explained that years earlier, the family had built a valuable property business.
After her husband died, the company should have been divided among their children.
But Harold wanted control of everything.
He had convinced Silas's father that their mother was incapable of managing her affairs.
Then he started manipulating documents.
“I refused to sign,” she whispered.
“So he began threatening you?”
She nodded.
“Then my son became afraid.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“He thought the only way to protect me was to hide me.”
I looked toward Silas.
His father had been wrong.
Terribly wrong.
But the story was more complicated than I had first believed.
“He wasn't working alone,” she continued.
“Who was helping him?”
She looked at me.
“A lawyer.”
“Name?”
“Daniel Mercer.”
I wrote it down.
Then she grabbed my wrist.
“Officer…”
“Yes?”
“Harold knows about the box.”
My stomach dropped.
“How?”
She looked toward the house.
“Because I told him where I hid it.”
I turned around.
The metal box was still with the officers.
Then I noticed something.
Silas's father was gone.
I rushed back toward the house.
His truck was still outside.
But he wasn't inside.
“Where is he?” I asked.
Nobody knew.
Then we heard a phone ringing.
It was coming from upstairs.
We followed the sound.
The phone was lying on Silas's bed.
A text message appeared on the screen.
YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT THE HOUSE ALONE.
Then another message arrived.
NOW THE BOY KNOWS TOO MUCH.
My blood ran cold.
I immediately looked around.
“Where is Silas?”
No one answered.
We searched the kitchen.
The living room.
The bathroom.
The backyard.
Nothing.
Then I noticed the cabinet beneath the sink.
The place where Silas had hidden earlier.
The door was open.
Inside was a small piece of paper.
Three words were written in a child's handwriting:
“I found Grandma's key.”
I turned toward the hallway.
The locked room.
The key.
The box.
Everything suddenly connected.
Silas hadn't simply been hiding from his father.
He had been searching the house for evidence.
And now he had found something important enough to disappear for.
I ran toward the front door.
Outside, a dark sedan was already turning the corner.
I grabbed the radio.
“Unit in pursuit. We may have a child involved.”
Then I saw something on the sidewalk.
Silas's backpack.
His favorite small blue toy was lying beside it.
And underneath the backpack was a folded photograph.
I opened it.
It showed two houses.
One belonged to Aunt Mara.
The other belonged to someone I had never heard of.
On the back, Silas had written:
“Grandma said the truth is in the third house.”
I looked at the street where the sedan had disappeared.
Then I realized something terrifying.
There weren't two houses.
There were three.
And Silas had just been taken to the one nobody knew about.
