He rests his hand on my shoulder, warm and steadying. His gaze sweeps me—a full-body assessment that is entirely professional yet not impersonal.
“Really, I’m fine. It’s just…unnerving.”
“Does the threat mean something to you?” he asks, voice low.
“‘Stay on your path.’” I exhale slowly. “Not much on its face. But the numbers…they carry meaning in numerology. I just don’t know why someone would use that, or what ‘consequences’ I’m supposed to avoid. If it’s connected to Pierce, maybe this is their first vague warning. Crawford’s blackmail started that way.”
“You think it’s them?” he asks.
“Maybe. But if they wanted me to stay quiet, why not say it? And with Crawford, the escalation to a threat didn’t occur until the second package. I mean, I guess there’s no law that says it has to be one hundred percent consistent for it to be the same person, or group of people.”
He takes my hand, his grip gentle but certain, and guides me toward the sofa. Gabriel settles into the chair across from us—close enough to be present, professional enough not to intrude.
“I have other updates,” Noah says. “I don’t know if they connect. We might be dealing with two different parties.”
A hint of nausea swirls. His updates aren’t positive—I can tell. “What is it?”
“I met with Elizabeth Delacroix today.”
My breath stills. “And?”
“A man followed me. The same man who hired the PI. This time I got his plate. His name is Danny. We’ve been doing background, learning what we can about him.” He pauses, like I’m not going to like what he’s about to say.
“Just say it.”
“He’s Jessica’s cousin.”
The floor seems to tilt. “Jessica? But…why?”
“I don’t know. Could be harmless. Maybe Richard confided something and she took it on herself to look into it—maybe she’s doing him a favor, asked her cousin to hire a PI to check me out, make sure Stella’s safe with me in the house.”
I shake my head. “Richard wouldn’t hire a PI to investigate you. I told you. He’s controlling but not unhinged.”
“Then why follow me? Why track you?” Noah asks. “My guess is that today he was following your car. The tracker is still active. He might’ve been trying to confirm what you were doing near Elizabeth Delacroix’s house.”
A hollow chill rolls through me. “That would mean…they’re involved in Matthew’s case.”
“Maybe not the murder,” Noah says. “But the framing? Possibly.”
“That’s insane.”
He lifts one brow. “Is it? Richard pushed custody fast. Anything financial coming up?”
“No,” I whisper. “Nothing like that. And regardless of anything between us, he’d never want to hurt me. He’d never risk hurting Stella.”
Noah’s phone buzzes. He glances at the screen—and all the color drains from his face.
“My dad’s in an ambulance,” he says, voice roughening. “They’re taking him to the hospital.”
I don’t think. I reach for him. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“He’s in New Jersey,” he murmurs, still staring at the message as if willing it to change.
“He texted? Can you call?”
“Linda texted. She said she’ll call from the hospital.”
“Let’s go.” I tighten my grip on his arm. “Train or plane—what’s fastest? Flights to Manhattan run every hour. Where in New Jersey?”