Chapter 4 - The Photograph Under the Door
Claire called Damian before she could talk herself out of it.
He answered on the first ring.
“Claire?”
“Someone left something.”
His voice changed instantly.
“What?”
“A photograph.”
“Where are you?”
“At the café.”
“Is Emma with you?”
“Yes.”
“Lock every door.”
“They’re already locked.”
“Go upstairs.”
“Damian—”
“I’m coming.”
“You said no orders.”
Silence.
Then his tone softened.
“Please go upstairs.”
That difference mattered more than Claire wanted it to.
She took Emma by the hand.
“Come on, baby.”
“Where?”
“Upstairs.”
“But I’m coloring.”
“You can bring it.”
Emma gathered her crayons while Claire picked up the envelope using a dish towel.
She didn’t know what evidence mattered.
Four years living quietly had not taught her how to deal with threats.
Four years before that, being Damian’s wife had taught her too much.
She remembered security sweeps.
Cars changing routes.
Conversations stopping when she entered rooms.
Damian saying everything was fine in the exact tone that meant nothing was fine.
Claire hated how quickly old instincts returned.
Upstairs, she locked the apartment door.
Emma sat on the rug.
“Are we hiding?”
“No.”
“You locked two doors.”
“We’re being careful.”
“From what?”
Claire forced a smile.
“Grown-up problems.”
Emma frowned.
“I hate those.”
“So do I.”
Ten minutes later, Claire heard vehicles outside.
She looked through the curtain.
Damian arrived with Marcus and one other man.
Claire opened the downstairs door only after seeing Damian alone.
He stepped inside.
His eyes went immediately to her face.
“You’re okay?”
“Yes.”
“Emma?”
“Upstairs.”
“Show me.”
Claire pointed toward the counter.
The photograph remained where she had placed it.
Damian examined it without touching.
His expression became terrifyingly blank.
Claire remembered that face.
It was the face Chicago feared.
“Don’t,” she said.
He looked at her.
“Don’t what?”
“Become him.”
“I am him.”
“No.”
Claire stepped closer.
“The man who walked on the beach with Emma wasn’t.”
Something flickered in his eyes.
He looked back at the photograph.
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand exactly. Someone scared you, so now you want to become scarier.”
“They threatened my daughter.”
“Our daughter.”
His head turned.
Claire hadn’t meant to say it.
The words landed differently.
Our.
For one second neither moved.
Then Damian lowered his voice.
“Our daughter.”
“Yes.”
Something almost vulnerable appeared in his expression.
Claire immediately regretted giving it emotional meaning.
“This is not a moment.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
Marcus entered after Claire allowed him inside.
He wore gloves and placed the photograph inside a plastic evidence sleeve.
“I’ll have it checked.”
Claire looked at him.
“For fingerprints?”
“For anything useful.”
“Do you remember me?”
Marcus paused.
“Yes.”
“You helped me move into Damian’s penthouse.”
“I did.”
“You also drove me to the hospital when I broke my wrist.”
“I remember.”
Claire studied him.
“Did you know Damian looked for me?”
Marcus glanced at Damian.
“That’s not my question,” Claire said.
Marcus sighed.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
Damian’s jaw tightened.
“Claire—”
“How long?”
Marcus answered.
“Five months seriously.”
Her chest tightened.
“And afterward?”
“Less.”
“What does less mean?”
“Periodic checks. Address databases. Financial activity.”
“But he stopped.”
Marcus looked uncomfortable.
“Yes.”
Claire nodded.
That was what she needed to know.
Damian did not defend himself.
“I should have kept looking.”
“Yes.”
“I thought you wanted to disappear.”
“I did.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
“No.”
Marcus wisely moved toward the door.
“I’ll take this outside.”
Claire waited until he left.
“You’re behaving differently.”
Damian gave a humorless smile.
“Is that suspicious?”
“Yes.”
“Fair.”
“Why?”
“Because the last four years were long.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He looked toward the ceiling.
Emma’s footsteps sounded above them.
“When you left, I spent a year being angry at you.”
Claire stared.
“At me?”
“It was easier.”
“For what?”
“Leaving.”
“You told me to.”
“I know.”
“Then you’re insane.”
“Probably.”
She almost smiled but stopped herself.
“Continue.”
“The second year, I was angry at Olivia.”
Claire’s face hardened.
“The third year, I stopped speaking to Olivia entirely.”
“You were still speaking to her?”
“Family events. Nothing more.”
“You don’t get points.”
“I know.”
“The fourth?”
Damian looked directly at her.
“The fourth year, I finally ran out of people to blame except myself.”
Claire had waited years to hear that.
It did not feel as satisfying as she expected.
Instead it made her tired.
“I thought realizing I ruined my marriage was punishment enough.”
His eyes moved upward again.
“I was wrong.”
Emma appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Damian!”
His entire face changed.
The transformation startled Claire.
Emma ran down.
“Mom said we’re being careful.”
Damian looked at Claire.
“She told you that?”
“Yes. Is there a monster?”
Damian crouched.
“Not if I can help it.”
Claire immediately said, “No monster.”
Emma studied the photograph on the counter.
“What’s that?”
Claire moved in front of it.
“Nothing important.”
Damian looked uncomfortable with the lie.
Claire noticed.
Later, after Marcus left, Damian stayed.
Not because Claire invited him.
Because Emma did.
“You didn’t get your grilled cheese.”
Damian looked at Claire.
Claire sighed.
“Fine.”
She made three.
They sat at a corner table overlooking the harbor.
It was painfully normal.
Emma dipped grilled cheese into tomato soup.
Damian copied her.
Claire stared.
“You hate dipping bread.”
Damian looked up.
“Apparently I’ve evolved.”
Emma giggled.
Damian smiled.
Claire’s chest tightened.
There had been a time when she lived for that smile.
It appeared rarely.
Privately.
Usually after midnight when business calls stopped and he became simply her husband.
She hated remembering.
“Mom says you live far away,” Emma said.
“Chicago.”
“Is it bigger than Grey Harbor?”
“A little.”
Claire snorted.
Damian ignored her.
“There are lots of buildings.”
“Boats?”
“Some.”
“Lighthouse?”
“Not like yours.”
Emma seemed satisfied Grey Harbor had won.
“Do you have a house?”
“Yes.”
“Kids?”
Damian stopped.
“No.”
“You have me.”
The spoon froze halfway to his mouth.
Claire looked down.
Emma continued eating, unaware she had detonated something inside him.
“Yes,” Damian said quietly.
“I have you.”
After dinner, Emma showed him her drawings.
One included Claire.
Emma.
Mr. Buttons.
The café.
No father.
Damian stared at the empty side of the page longer than necessary.
“You can draw yourself,” Emma offered.
He blinked.
“Me?”
“Yeah.”
She handed him a purple crayon.
Damian Blackwood took it.
His drawing was terrible.
Emma told him so.
Claire laughed.
For fifteen minutes, the threat outside disappeared.
Then Damian’s phone vibrated.
He checked the screen.
His expression changed.
Claire noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She immediately stood.
“What did we agree?”
Damian closed his eyes.
“No lying.”
“What?”
He showed her the message.
Marcus:
Photographer identified. Evan Cole. Chicago private contractor. Paid through shell account connected to Russo Logistics.
Claire read it twice.
“Russo?”
“Anthony Russo.”
“Your Anthony?”
“He works for me.”
“Why would he be watching us?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s a lie.”
“I have theories.”
“Tell me.”
Damian glanced at Emma.
“Later.”
Claire understood.
“Emma, sweetheart, take your drawings upstairs.”
Emma frowned.
“But—”
“Ten minutes.”
She went reluctantly.
The second she disappeared, Claire turned.
“Talk.”
“Anthony arranged the meeting that brought me to Maine.”
Claire stared.
“So you didn’t find us accidentally.”
“I may have been meant to find you.”
“Why?”
“Because someone wants leverage.”
Her face went pale.
“Emma.”
“Yes.”
“You leave tonight.”
Damian’s eyes sharpened.
“That won’t solve it.”
“It removes the reason they care about us.”
“No. Now that they know she exists, me leaving changes nothing.”
Claire hated that he was right.
“So what do we do?”
Damian surprised her again.
“I don’t know yet.”
She had never heard him admit that.
“But I know what I’m not doing.”
“What?”
“Dragging you back into my world.”
He looked toward the stairs.
“I’ll drag my world away from you instead.”
“How?”
His phone rang.
Anthony Russo.
Damian stared at the name.
Claire did too.
“Answer,” she whispered.
Damian accepted.
“Anthony.”
“Boss.”
Anthony sounded relaxed.
“Enjoying Maine?”
Damian’s eyes met Claire’s.
“More than I expected.”
“I heard Grey Harbor is beautiful.”
The café became completely silent.
Damian’s voice stayed calm.
“You’ve been?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know where I am?”
A pause.
Too long.
Anthony laughed.
“You told me about the property meeting.”
“I told you Maine.”
Another silence.
Claire felt cold.
Finally Anthony said, “Guess I remembered the town.”
Damian’s expression became stone.
“Maybe.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“Good. Safe travels.”
The call ended.
Claire stared at Damian.
“He knows.”
“Yes.”
“What happens now?”
Damian slipped the phone into his pocket.
“Now I find out why.”
Upstairs, Emma screamed.
Claire and Damian ran simultaneously.
They found her standing near the window.
“Mom!”
Claire grabbed her.
“What happened?”
Emma pointed outside.
A car was parked across the alley.
Its headlights were off.
Someone sat behind the wheel.
Claire’s blood ran cold.
Damian looked through the curtain.
The car slowly pulled away.
Emma whispered, “Was that the monster?”
Damian turned from the window.
He looked at his daughter.
Then at Claire.
“No,” he said quietly.
But his expression said something else.
The monster had already arrived.
May you like
And this time, it knew exactly where they lived.
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