The Note

"Pet" was the wrong word. A pet is loved. A pet is cared for. Julian was an exhibit. A cautionary tale locked in a gilded cage.

I sat in Mrs. Gable's floral armchair, the smell of stale smoke a physical weight in the air. The old woman's eyes were sharp, intelligent, and utterly devoid of pity. She had watched a murder and done nothing, paralyzed by the same fear that had kept me silent for twenty-five years.

The fear of the Vance name.

"Why tell me now?" I asked.

Mrs. Gable took another drag, the tip of her cigarette glowing orange. "Because the fire changed things, dear. Fire cleanses. It brings things into the light."

She pointed a crooked finger at the window.

"And because I saw the note."

I frowned. "What note?"

"The one on your car. This morning. Before the fire trucks arrived."

I stood up and walked to the window. My car—Richard’s car, actually, since Maya had taken mine—was parked in Mrs. Gable’s driveway. I had been so focused on getting inside, I hadn't looked at the windshield.

But there it was. A piece of white paper, tucked under the wiper blade, plastered against the glass by the damp air.

I ran out to the car. My hands shook as I pulled the paper free. It was wet, the ink beginning to bleed, but the handwriting was unmistakable.

The same bold, looping script I had seen in the attic. The same arrogant slant as the signature on the birthday card.

*She looks just like her mother.*

*Keep Maya away from the river.*

I stared at the words until they blurred.

It wasn't a warning. It was a threat.

Julian knew about Maya. Of course he knew. He had been watching her grow up from his tower window. He knew she was Sarah's daughter. *His* daughter.

And now he was free.

I crumpled the note in my fist. The fear that had been a cold knot in my stomach suddenly ignited into something hot and furious.

He wasn't just a ghost anymore. He was a predator.

I looked back at the house. Mrs. Gable was watching me from the window, her face a pale oval behind the glass. She knew. She had always known.

I got into the car. I didn't go back to the house. I didn't go to the police.

I drove.

I needed to find Maya. I needed to make sure she was safe.

But as I turned onto the main road, my phone buzzed.

*Unknown Number.*

I answered it.

"Hello?"

"She really does, you know," a voice said. Smooth. Cultured. Chilling. "She has Sarah's eyes. But she has my temper."

"Where are you?" I screamed. "If you touch her—"

"I'm not going to touch her, Helen. I'm going to educate her."

I heard the sound of an engine in the background. A car door slamming.

"Tuition is due," Julian said. "And she's about to learn the most expensive lesson of her life."

The line went dead.

I looked at the phone. My hand was shaking so hard I could barely hold it.

He wasn't running. He wasn't hiding.

He was going for the one thing I had left.

I slammed my foot on the accelerator. The BMW roared, the engine whining in protest.

I wasn't the housekeeper anymore. I wasn't the invisible wife.

I was a mother.

And I was done paying.