Page 24 of Daddy Detectives: Episode 2
After two decades as a homicide detective, I’ve learned to listen to my intuition.
Chapter 10 – Ian
I’ve pushed the babies up and down the driveway a couple of times now, keeping one eye on the door to the carriage house as I watch for Tyler to come out. He said he’d join us as soon as he could.
On another pass down to the bottom of the drive, I pause and glance back to see if he’s coming yet. Unfortunately, no. I’d like to walk down the street to the Lake Michigan walking path, but not without Tyler.
While I’m down here near the street, I check our mailbox. There are several pieces of mail here, all junk. I grab the envelopes and glance through them—junk mail, junk mail, junk mail, water bill, junk mail. When I glance at the last piece in the stack, my heart stutters. The envelope is addressed to me, but there’s no postage mark. The weird thing is, it’s not in the same dark heavy handwriting as before. It’s written in blue ink in tiny capital letters.
Gary didn’t write this.
Someone else did.
But who? The only other person who knows my history is Rhonda, and she’s not involved. Besides, she’s in the hospital. She couldn’t have done this.
I glance around, scanning both sides of the street, but I don’t see anyone lurking. I put the rest of the mail into a pocket on the stroller and open the hand-addressed envelope. Inside is another handwritten note.
Ian,
If you think this is over, you’re wrong.
Dead wrong.
A wave of dizziness washes over me, and I grip the stroller handle hard. This doesn’t make any sense. Rhonda’s in the hospital. Gary Sharp is in jail. Neither of them could have left this letter here in our mailbox.
My skin is crawling, and I can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching me. I scan the sidewalk in front of our house, looking for someone who shouldn’t be here. I glance at the few parked cars on both sides of the street, but I don’t see any that are unfamiliar. There is a white work van I don’t recognize parked a block away, but I can’t see through its heavily-tinted windows.
As I pull out my phone to call Tyler, I hear a sound behind me. A footstep, the scuff of a shoe on the sidewalk. I turn to face a man wearing ragged blue jeans and a black hoodie. His thinning blond hair is pulled back in a ponytail. There are shadows beneath his bloodshot eyes, and his narrow face is gaunt.
“You fucked up everything!” His voice is low and grating. “Gary said this would be easy money.” He takes a menacing step forward.
As my heart slams into my ribs, I push the stroller behind me and plant myself between this guy and our babies. “Don’t you dare come near my kids.”
When he keeps coming, I shove him back and watch as he struggles to keep his balance.
He regains his footing and comes at me a second time. “You fucker!”
I grab his wrists and grapple with him. “Tyler!”
I hear Tyler’s shout, followed by the sound of his steps hitting the pavement. A moment later, he rushes past me andslams into the man, tackling him to the ground and pinning him in place.
Tyler shoots me a quick glance. “Get inside!”
A moment later, Jerry is racing down the driveway, followed by Kimi.
“Take the babies inside,” I tell Kimi as I push the stroller in her direction. There’s no way I’m leaving Tyler out here to deal with this alone.
Tyler and the stranger are on the ground, wrestling for control. Even though the blond is thin and wiry, he’s strong. They grapple with each other for another minute before Tyler manages to roll on top of the guy, straddling the man’s hips. His face is locked in a grimace as he slams his fist into the guy’s face, once, twice, a third time.
I don’t think the guy is fighting back anymore.
Jerry grabs Tyler’s wrist before he can throw another punch. “Stand down, man. He’s not going anywhere.”
Tyler frisks the unconscious man and finds a switchblade and a wallet. He tosses the knife out of reach and hands the wallet to Jerry.
Jerry flips open the wallet and frowns. “His name’s Eric Sharp.”
“Sharp?” I say. “Oh, my God, he must be related to Gary.”
