CHAPTER 10 — The Stranger in the Park
I didn't tell Amy immediately. I couldn't bear to extinguish the light in her eyes. Instead, I spent the next 48 hours making frantic phone calls to my lawyer in Nashville, pacing my home office until the carpet wore thin.
My lawyer, Mr. Sterling, was grim. "Connor, this is an incredibly sophisticated corporate shell game. Your mother didn't mastermind the forgery alone. She was the pawn. Your father, Richard, has been running illegal lending operations for years. He used your mother’s greed, gave her the fake notary stamps, and orchestrated the whole thing from the shadows. Now that Teresa is in prison and the house is sold, he wants his money. And legally, because of a loophole in the way the title was transferred during the sale, they have a terrifyingly strong case to freeze your current accounts."
"He's a criminal!" I shouted into the phone. "Take him to court! Expose him!"
"We will try," Sterling sighed. "But these people are dangerous, Connor. They don't just use courts. Watch your back."
The true weight of Sterling's warning hit me the very next afternoon.
I was at work, reviewing blueprints for a new commercial build, when my cell phone buzzed. It was Amy. I answered immediately. "Hey, sweetheart, everything okay?"
"Connor," she said. Her voice was trembling. It was a sound I hadn't heard in three years. The sound of pure, unadulterated terror. "Connor, you need to come to the community park. Now."
I dropped my pen. "What happened? Is Frederick okay?"
"He's fine, he's safe in the car with me. The doors are locked," she stammered, her breath hitching. "But a man... a man approached us by the swings. He knew my name, Connor. He knew Frederick's name."
"I'm on my way. Do not move," I ordered, sprinting out of my office and throwing myself into my truck. I broke every speed limit getting to the park. When I arrived, I saw my SUV parked near the edge of the woods. I jumped out and ran to the window. Amy unlocked it, pulling me inside into a desperate hug.
Frederick was in the backseat, happily playing with a brand-new, expensive-looking wooden toy train.
"Where did he get that?" I demanded, staring at the toy.
"The man gave it to him," Amy sobbed, clutching my jacket. "He was an older man. Gray hair, wearing a tailored wool coat. He walked right up to us. He smiled, handed Frederick the toy, and then he looked at me and said, 'Tell my son Connor that family debts are paid in blood or cash. He has twenty-eight days left.'"
I felt a cold sweat break out across my neck. My father wasn't just hiding behind lawyers in Tennessee. He was here. In Colorado. He had tracked us down, and he had gotten close enough to touch my son.
I grabbed the wooden toy train from Frederick's hands, ignoring his immediate protests. I turned it over. Carved into the bottom of the wood was a phone number.
May you like
I looked at Amy, my jaw set in stone. The time for hiding was over. She deserved the truth. I told her everything—about the lien, the debt, and the ghost of my father returning to destroy us.
I expected her to break down. I expected the fragile woman from three years ago to crumble. Instead, Amy wiped her tears, her eyes hardening into a fierce, protective glare. "He touched our son," she whispered, her voice dropping an octave. "No one threatens my family again. We fight back, Connor. We end this."
