Chapter 8
Dad reached for the door.
I grabbed him.
“No.”
“Maya—”
“No.”
My voice was stronger than I expected.
“You are not going outside.”
Victor remained at the end of the driveway.
Watching.
Dad called 911.
Agent Greene called his team.
Grandma calmly moved away from the windows and told Mom to do the same.
I stood in the hallway.
My entire body trembled.
Victor had found me.
For months, my greatest fear had been that Jordan would come.
I had forgotten Jordan was not the only dangerous person involved.
On the security feed, Victor lifted one hand.
He held something.
An envelope.
Then he placed it on the driveway.
He turned.
He walked away.
By the time police arrived, he was gone.
The envelope was collected carefully.
Inside was a single printed photograph.
Jordan.
Sitting in a car.
He looked frightened.
There was a date in the corner.
Yesterday.
On the back, one sentence had been written.
HE WILL BLAME EVERYTHING ON ME.
Dad stared at it.
“What does this mean?”
Agent Greene answered.
“Victor and Jordan may have turned on each other.”
“Good,” Dad said.
“No.”
I shook my head.
Everyone looked at me.
“This is what Jordan does.”
Dad frowned.
“He makes people react.”
I stared at the photograph.
“He wants Victor angry.”
Agent Greene looked thoughtful.
“Why?”
“Because Jordan needs someone else to look worse.”
Silence.
“He did it with me.”
I continued.
“He made me panic. Then he acted calm.”
I pointed at the photograph.
“He’s doing the same thing.”
Detective Brooks arrived soon afterward.
She agreed with me.
“If Victor believes Jordan is cooperating with authorities, Victor may try to silence him.”
Dad looked disturbed.
“I’m having trouble feeling sorry for Jordan.”
“Neither am I,” Brooks said.
“But we need him alive.”
That night, I could not sleep.
At two in the morning, I went downstairs.
Grandma was already awake.
She sat at the kitchen table drinking tea.
“Do old people ever sleep?” I asked.
“Not when young people create this much drama.”
I laughed.
A tiny laugh.
It surprised both of us.
Grandma poured another cup.
I sat.
For a while, we listened to the refrigerator humming.
Then she said, “Your father cried after you went upstairs.”
I looked down.
“I know he feels guilty.”
“He should.”
I looked at her.
Grandma shrugged.
“Love does not mean pretending people never fail us.”
That sounded exactly like her.
“He failed you that night.”
My throat tightened.
“But failure and abandonment are not always the same.”
I thought about Dad running down the driveway.
Dropping to his knees.
“I forgave him.”
“Good.”
Grandma stirred her tea.
“Now make sure you forgive yourself too.”
“For what?”
“For surviving imperfectly.”
I stared at her.
She continued.
“You lied sometimes.”
I nodded.
“You ignored us.”
“Yes.”
“You defended Jordan.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“Yes.”
“You signed papers without reading.”
“Yes.”
Grandma leaned forward.
“And you still deserved help.”
I started crying.
She reached across the table.
“Victims always imagine they must have behaved perfectly before they are allowed compassion.”
Her thumb rubbed my knuckles.
“That is nonsense.”
I lowered my head.
“I should’ve known.”
“You know now.”
Those words stayed with me.
The next morning brought the biggest break yet.
Victor Shaw was arrested at a motel three counties away.
He had cash.
Fake identification.
And Brianna’s bracelet.
When Detective Brooks told us, my stomach turned.
“Her bracelet?”
“Yes.”
“Was she wearing it the night she disappeared?”
Her mother confirmed she almost never removed it.
Victor asked for a lawyer immediately.
Jordan was still missing.
But within six hours, Victor’s attorney contacted prosecutors.
He wanted to negotiate.
Dad laughed bitterly.
“Everyone suddenly wants a deal.”
Agent Greene explained that Victor was facing enormous charges.
Fraud.
Identity theft.
Conspiracy.
Potential kidnapping or worse, depending on what happened to Brianna.
By evening, Victor talked.
He admitted going to the lake house.
He admitted confronting Brianna.
He admitted taking her phone.
But he claimed she escaped.
Dad stared at Agent Greene.
“With no phone?”
“That’s his story.”
“What about the bracelet?”
“He says it broke during a struggle.”
My stomach twisted.
“And Jordan?”
“Victor says Jordan panicked.”
According to him, Brianna ran into the woods behind the lake house.
Victor wanted to chase her.
Jordan refused.
They argued.
Then Jordan told Victor he would handle it.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“We don’t know.”
But there was another detail.
Victor said Jordan returned to the lake house alone the following morning.
Dad’s face hardened.
“For what?”
“To clean.”
Mom turned pale.
I felt numb.
That night, search teams returned to the woods around the lake house.
I could not think about what they might find.
The next day passed slowly.
Then another.
Jordan remained missing.
The search continued.
On the third morning, Detective Brooks came to our house in person.
The moment I saw her face, I knew.
Dad stood beside me.
“Did you find Brianna?”
Brooks took a breath.
“We found human remains.”
Mom began crying.
I closed my eyes.
The room disappeared.
For two years, Brianna’s family had not known.
Hope could be cruel when it had nowhere to land.
“Is it her?” I whispered.
“We need formal identification.”
But Brooks’s expression answered anyway.
Dad put his arm around me.
I thought I would collapse.
Instead, anger came.
Hot.
Sharp.
Clear.
“She tried to warn people.”
“Yes,” Brooks said.
“And nobody listened.”
Brooks did not defend anyone.
“No.”
I wiped my face.
“Then we make them listen now.”
That afternoon, I gave permission for investigators to use my full statement publicly if prosecutors needed it.
Nicole did the same.
Three other women came forward after news of the fraud investigation leaked.
Then seven.
Then twelve.
The pattern became impossible to dismiss.
Jordan Price had spent years building a reputation.
Now the truth was building one too.
The university president announced an independent investigation.
Dr. Reed was suspended and later fired.
Families demanded answers.
Brianna’s mother released a statement asking for justice.
And still, Jordan was missing.
Until Friday morning.
Dad’s phone rang at 6:12.
Detective Brooks.
“They found him.”
My heart slammed.
“Where?”
“At a bus station.”
“Was he leaving?”
“Yes.”
Dad tightened his grip on the phone.
“Did you arrest him?”
Brooks paused.
“He ran.”
My stomach dropped.
“What happened?”
“He got away from the first officers.”
Dad cursed.
“But we believe he’s still in the area.”
Then the security alarm began screaming.
We all froze.
The back door sensor.
Dad turned toward the kitchen.
A shadow moved behind the glass.
And then someone pounded once against the door.
May you like
“Maya!”
Jordan’s voice.
