Then he nodded.
“You’re right.”
It was the first surrender I had ever seen Alexander Brooks make without resistance.
We reached the house shortly after sunrise.
The neighborhood looked exactly as I remembered—quiet lawns, old mailboxes, maple trees lining both sides of the road.
Nothing moved.
Marcus parked two houses away.
“Anyone know this location?”
“No,” I said.
Alexander looked around.
“Then assume someone does.”
We entered through the back.
Dust covered the kitchen counters.
Family photographs still lined the hallway.
My mother smiling on her wedding day.
My sister at graduation.
Sofia at five years old wearing fairy wings.
Then one photograph stopped Alexander.
It showed the four of us before our marriage collapsed.
Alexander.
Me.
Sofia.
And behind us, barely visible near a picnic table, stood a man I had never noticed before.
Marcus took the frame.
He studied it.
“Daniel.”
Alexander touched the glass.
“He was watching you.”
