Chapter 40 - The Unseen Watcher
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The courier wore a light blue uniform. He walked up the gravel path, carrying a small, square package wrapped in heavy brown paper.
My heart gave a sudden, sharp thud against my ribs—a terrible ghost of recognition echoing from three months ago.
"Mrs. Clara Walker?" the courier asked politely.
"Yes," I said cautiously, keeping my distance on the porch steps.
"Priority delivery, ma'am. Came in on the early flight from London," he said, holding out a digital clipboard for my signature.
"London?" I echoed, my brow furrowing. "Who sent it?"
"No sender listed on the manifest," the courier replied. He handed me the parcel, tipped his hat, and walked back down the driveway to his truck.
I stood on the porch, holding the square package. It was surprisingly heavy.
Using a small pocketknife from my porch table, I sliced through the heavy brown paper wrapping.
Inside was a simple black metal box with no lock.
I opened the lid.
Resting inside was a single black-and-white photograph, a silver key, and a small, vintage brass pocket watch that was ticking loudly.
I picked up the photograph. It showed a bustling street in Paris. In the background of the photo, standing outside a café, was my father, Arthur Walker—wearing a heavy coat, looking directly at the camera with a subtle, mocking smile.
The photo was dated yesterday.
My breath hitched. My father was supposed to be locked inside a maximum-security federal cell in California.
Taped to the back of the photograph was a short note written in dark blue ink:
The man in the California cell is a substitute, Clara. You thought Ethan was the only one who knew how to vanish? The game hasn't even begun.
May you like
Look behind you.
Suddenly, the silent woods behind my house echoed with the soft, distinct crunch of a footstep on dry leaves.
