“Your phone is clean. This was attached to the bike itself. Professional placement. Not easy to spot unless you're looking.”
I pick up the tracker, turn it over in my fingers. Such a small thing to nearly end my life.
“Can you trace it?”
“Working on it. These units are sold in bulk, but there's a serial number. It'll take time.”
Time. Everything takes time. And I'm stuck in this bed counting ceiling tiles while someone who tried to kill me walks free.
My mind goes where I don't want it to go. Victor. He had access. He had opportunity.
Why? He said he wanted me back in the family. Said a Hammond needed to run Hammond Industries. What does he gain from hurting me?
Unless it was a warning. A reminder of what he's capable of.
The thought makes me sick. I've spent my whole life knowing my father is ruthless. This? Trying to kill his own son?
Even for Victor, that feels like a line.
Doesn't it?
The kid inside me, the one who spent years trying to earn approval that never came, wonders if I ever really knew him at all. If the man who looked at me and saw only disappointment is capable of looking at me and seeing a problem to be eliminated.
“What are you thinking?” Maddox asks.
“Nothing good.”
He doesn't push. That's one of the things I've always appreciated about him. He delivers information and lets me process it on my own terms.
“What about Emma?” I ask. “Any movement from her ex?”
Maddox shakes his head. “Tank's been on her since the night at the hospital. Regular updates. She goes to work, comes here, goes home. James hasn't been within a mile of her.”
Some of the tension in my shoulders eases. “She knows he's watching?”
“No. You said to keep it quiet.”
I nod. Emma would hate knowing she has a shadow. She'd see it as another way I'm trying to control her life, fix her problems. After what happened with James at her apartment, after what happened to me, I'm not taking chances.
Maddox stands, tucks the tracker back into his bag. “I'll update you when I have more. Two hours on the laptop. Don't make me regret it.”
He's gone before I can respond.
I spend the next hour catching up on emails I'm not supposed to be reading. Most of it is routine. Logan and Ethan have kept things running smoothly, which shouldn't surprise me, but still stings. ELK doesn't fall apart without me. The world keeps turning.
One email catches my attention. The Ravenwood Community School. The principal has written to thank me for securing them temporary facilities while the fire damage is repaired. Attached is a scanned copy of the students'handwritten notes. Crayon drawings. Wobbly letters spelling out “Thank you, Mr. Rhodes” and “You're our hero.”
I stare at the drawings longer than I should. A kid named Marcus drew me as a stick figure with a cape. Another one, Sofia, drew the new building with a rainbow over it.
I hit reply, start drafting a message about setting up a scholarship fund. Something for kids who want to go to college. It's not much, just money. But it's something I can do from this bed. Something useful.
Logan arrives around four with coffee that doesn't taste like it was filtered through a dirty sock. Small mercies.
“Maddox told me he brought you the laptop,” he says, settles into the chair by the window.
“He understands me.”
“He enables you. There's a difference.”
