“I’ll see you soon, okay, baby?” Jazz leaned down and planted a kiss on Ella’s head, then pulled himself up to his full height to make eye contact with the police officer she was leaving with. He didn’t need to say anything; it was clear what he was putting across. A little flash of fear passed across the young man’s face, and he extended his hand towards Ella, who happily took it. All three of us watched as they made their way down the stairs, and as soon as they were out of sight, I turned to Elijah.
“So what have you found?” I asked urgently as he closed the door behind Ella and her companion. They were heading down to the precinct, somewhere that we knew Ella could be safe while we pursued our latest lead.
“Can we talk and drive?” Elijah asked, jerking his head down towards the car he had parked outside. Jazz and I exchanged a glance, and I nodded.
“Anything that gets us there faster.”
A few minutes later, the three of us were sitting in the car; Jazz had insisted on the backseat to keep an eye out for any other potential stalkers who might have been following us. Elijah seemed focused on the drive, and I stared out of the window, wondering if this would be the break we needed to put this whole thing to bed. Jesus, listen to me—talking like some kind of cop from a cheesy daytime TV show. I didn’t give too much of a shit, though, when I glanced in the rear view mirror at Jazz. I got him when this was done. That was as good a motivation as any.
We pulled to a halt in a part of town I didn’t recognize. I looked around, and found that we were in a suburban cul-de-sac, lined with neat lawns and clean houses. It looked fancy. I turned to Elijah, brow furrowed, not sure what this had to do with Ian.
“You see that house at the end of the street?” Elijah pointed in the direction of a large, sand-colored house sitting about a hundred feet from us. Jazz leaned forward over the front seat and peered out.
“What about it?”
“That’s where Ian’s brother lives.” Elijah turned to us, raising his eyebrows, knowing that he had hit on something huge.
My eyebrows shot up. “Ian has a brother?”
“Addison,” Elijah confirmed. “I couldn’t find much about Ian, but I was able to unseal some files that his brother has with the police—”
“Why, what did he do?” Jazz demanded, the hint of a snarl in his voice. I knew that he would take down this entire family if he had to, and wouldn’t think twice about it.
“He was in and out of juvenile detention when he was growing up.” Elijah shrugged. “Nothing serious. Just kid’s stuff.”
“So how did he end up with a place like that?” The house was gorgeous, with a perfectly manicured lawn—it didn’t exactly look like the kind of place that a guy who’d had multiple brushes with the law would stay.
“His grandfather left it to him and Ian, and he was the one to claim it. Their grandparents basically raised the two of them, and they were really close.”
“So what does he do now?” Jazz asked, flopping back against the seat behind him.
“He runs a halfway house for people like him out of the house,” Elijah replied. “He seems like a pretty good guy, like he’s really turned his life around. That’s why I was hoping he’d help us out with Ian.”
“How do we know we can trust him?” Jazz scowled suspiciously, and Elijah shrugged.
“We don’t,” he admitted. “But this is the best lead we’ve found since we started here.”
Jazz went silent, conceding the point, and the three of us got out of the car and made our way towards the house. Jazz reached for my hand and squeezed it gently; I wondered if he was trying to comfort me, or himself. Elijah glanced at the two of us when he reached the door, and then lifted the heavy knocker and let him slam back against the polished wood.
We heard movement inside the house; for a panicked moment, I convinced myself that it was Ian, that he had somehow lured us here and was about to finish up his crazy plan while he had us separated from Ella. But instead, a man answered the door and gave us the once over.
“Can I help you?” he asked, smiling politely as he waited for us to respond. He was dressed nicely, in a pale blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of slacks. His nose was crooked, as though it had been broken a couple of times.
“Hi,” Elijah stuck his hand out. “I’m Elijah, and I’m here with the police?”
“Is it about one of the boys?” The man asked, fear dancing through his eyes for a second—but it vanished when Elijah shook his head. The man glanced over at me, and for a second, it looked as though he recognized me from somewhere.
“It’s about…uh, it’s about Ian,” he made eye contact with the man, whose face dropped. He stepped aside, and gestured for us to enter.
“Come on,” he sighed. “I’ll get us something to drink.”
The place was quiet—apparently, the people who usually stayed came in batches and they were currently doing a turnover. Addison led us to the front room—a big, airy space with comfortable, mismatched furniture—and made us all coffee. He seemed to be doing his best to avoid the conversation that was going to happen, bustling around and not making eye contact with any of us.
Addison finally sat down, clasping the coffee mug protectively to his chest. “So, what’s been going on with Ian?”
Elijah looked over at us. “I think you guys know better than I do.”
Jazz and I exchanged a glance, and before we knew it, we were recounting every little detail of what had gone down over the last few months. The movement in the attic, the note we found, the footprints on the floor. Addison took it all in with an almost unsettlingly calm look on his face, and paused for a moment when we were finally done talking.
“And this all started a few months ago?” he asked finally.
“That’s right,” Jazz confirmed. “Why?”
“Jesus, I knew I should have done something about it sooner,” Addison muttered to himself. He got to his feet and went upstairs, leaving us exchanging confused glances as we waited for him to return. A few seconds later, he did, clutching a small box that he laid down carefully on the table in front of us. He began to remove the contents as he spoke.
“I knew I recognized you from somewhere.” He looked up at me. “I just couldn’t place it. But…”
In the box, there were handfuls of photographs. Addison laid them out around the table, and I craned my head around to see what was in them. When my eyes focused, my stomach dropped, and I felt as though I was going to throw up.
“Fucking hell,” Elijah murmured. Yeah, that about summed it up.
The photographs—which had clearly been taken from the vantage point of that window in the attic in the house next door—were of Ella and me. They’d clearly been taken across multiple days, and showed the two of us going into and out of the house—unaware, unknowing, talking and laughing about this or that. I gripped the arm of the couch in an attempt to keep myself upright, but it wasn’t working. I fought the urge to scream—I wanted to claw at my skin, desperate to get his gaze off of me. But it was too late. These pictures, he’d taken them, developed them, done God knows what over them—and then passed them on to Addison.
“When did these arrive?” Jazz asked, tone surprisingly measured.
“I don’t know for sure—about six weeks ago?” Addison replied, wrinkling his nose up as he tried to remember. “Ian was always into these art projects, and I just thought it was something like that—”
“How did you know they were from him?” Jazz cut across him. “Was there a note?”
“No, but I know no one but Ian was going to send me stuff like this.” Addison shook his head grimly. “Is this your daughter?”
Jazz nodded, unable to get the words out. I couldn’t blame him.
“Why didn’t you come to the police with this?” Elijah asked, leaning forward. “You must have known this wasn’t okay. Especially with your brother’s history…”
“I know I should have, but it slipped my mind,” Addison responded, his voice laced with apology. “We had a turnaround, and the box got stashed up in my office and I just didn’t think about it till I saw you.”
“So he’s been doing this for a while.” Jazz got to his feet. Addison took a breath as though he was about to speak, and then fell silent. We all looked over at him.
“What is it?” Jazz urged. “Come on, you owe us anything we can get our hands on now. Please.”
“Your daughter,” he began hesitantly. “Ella?”
Jazz nodded, silent, waiting for him to continue.
“She looks just like our little sister,” Addison went on softly, a little smile playing at the corner of his mouth. His face seemed to droop with sadness in spite of it.
“What do you mean?” Elijah leaned forward. “I couldn’t find any records of a sister—”
“She’s dead,” Addison cut him off bluntly. “She died in a fishing accident when she was five. Ian was there with her, and I’m not sure he ever really…”
He drifted off for a moment, leaving the sentence unfinished. I sucked in a long breath, trying to calm the sound of the blood hammering in my ears. All of this was falling into place. He was building himself a little family, building it up from nothing. How long had he been planning it? When had he first laid eyes on Ella and seen the spitting image of his sister? And what did I have to do with this?
“So you think that might be why he got so obsessed with Ella?” Jazz pressed.
Addison nodded. “Almost certainly.” He blinked away a couple of tears that had been shining in his eyes. “I guarantee it.”
Jazz sat back down and ran his hands through his hair agitatedly. All four of us sat there, silent, trying to figure out what to do with this new information. And that was the last moment I remembered before it all went completely to shit.