“I found this on the front step,” Isabel explained, holding it out to him. “It has your name on it. I didn’t see who left it here.”
Frank took the envelope, his expression hardening as he examined the handwriting. Without a word, he moved to the kitchen table and carefully opened it, sliding the contents onto the wooden surface.
Photographs spilled out—perhaps a dozen- all featuring a young woman with dark hair. In one photo she was leaving a grocery store. In another, she was walking with another woman along a busy street.
“Sarah,” Frank breathed. The single word carried a universe of pain.
Isabel moved closer, her heart aching at the raw grief in his voice. “Tommy’s mother?”
Frank nodded, picking up a photo with trembling fingers. “These were taken the day before she died.” He pointed to the date stamp in the corner of the image. “October fourteen. The accident was on the fifteenth.”
Isabel felt cold despite the morning sunshine streaming through the windows. “Who would have been photographing her?”
“Sterling,” Frank said, his voice hardening. “They must have been watching her, watching all of us.” He gathered the photos with careful movements. “At the very least, this is their way of letting me know they could have hurt her—hurt any of us—anytime they wanted.”
“Why now?” Isabel asked, her mind racing. “After all this time?”
Frank’s eyes met hers, and the pain she saw there made her breath catch. “If I thought the worst, it’s to show me they could have had something to do with the accident.”
The words hung in the air between them, terrible and unthinkable. Isabel’s mind rebelled against it, even as a sickening sense of possibility took root.
“You don’t think...” she began, unable to finish the thought.
Frank ran a hand over his face. “I don’t know. The investigation ruled it was a mechanical failure in the brakes. But now, with these...” He gestured to the photos, his hand shaking slightly. “They’re showing me what they’re capable of.”
Isabel held Frank’s hand. “You need to call the FBI. Right now.”
“If I do that, they’ll want to take us into protective custody,” Frank said, his gaze drifting toward the stairs where Tommystill slept. “They’ll put us in a safe house, pull us away from everything we’ve built here.”
Isabel frowned. “If that’s what it takes to keep Tommy safe?—”
“It’s not just about safety,” Frank interrupted, his voice strained. “It’s about giving him stability, normalcy. After we lost Sarah and Tony, he had nightmares for months. He’d wake up screaming. He was convinced we’d have an accident, too.” Frank’s eyes closed briefly against the memory. “I promised him we’d build something permanent here, something no one could take away from us.”
Isabel understood why Frank had come here. The house, the fishing trips, the quiet life in Sapphire Bay—they were more than just hiding places. They were healing spaces, carefully constructed to help his grandson recover from unimaginable loss.
“What if there’s a middle path?” she suggested, an idea forming. “What if you contact the FBI but ask for protection here, in Sapphire Bay? This community would rally around you both—I know they would.”
Frank seemed about to reply when a small voice came from the doorway.
“Grandpa? What’s wrong?”
They both turned to see Tommy standing in rumpled pajamas, his hair sticking up at odd angles. His eyes were wide and worried as he darted between the adults and the scattered photos on the table.
Frank quickly gathered the images, sliding them back into the envelope. “Nothing’s wrong, buddy. Just some old pictures someone dropped off.”
But Tommy’s expression said he didn’t believe it. His eyes lingered on the envelope, then moved to Isabel.
She hesitated before she spoke. Tommy wasn’t her grandson. Whatever she said had to be something that Frank would behappy for her to repeat. “Your grandpa and I are trying to figure out who left these photos,” she explained gently. “It’s a bit of a mystery, that’s all.”
“Is it the man from yesterday?” Tommy asked, his voice small but steady. “The one who said he knew Mom?”
Frank and Isabel exchanged a glance, and Isabel saw the moment Frank’s resolve solidified.
“Maybe,” Frank admitted. “Which is why we need to talk to some people. They’ll make sure he doesn’t bother us again.”
Tommy nodded solemnly. “Like the police?”
“Like the FBI,” Frank corrected, moving to kneel in front of his grandson. “Tommy, I need you to know something important. I’ll never let anyone hurt you. No matter what happens or what changes we need to make, keeping you safe is the most important thing in the world to me.”
