Chapter 21 - Amy’s Discovery Back HomeWhile Julian and I were securing the vault in Chattanooga, back in Nashville, Amy was experiencing a chilling encounter of her own.
The morning sun was streaming through the kitchen windows as she poured herself a cup of coffee, little Frederick playing happily with his building blocks on the newly poured patio outside.
Suddenly, the smart home security monitor mounted on the kitchen wall beeped sharply.
Amy walked over, expecting to see the delivery driver or a neighbor walking their dog. Instead, the screen displayed a live feed from the front gate camera.
A black sedan idling at the end of our driveway.
A man stepped out of the vehicle—tall, sharply dressed in a dark suit, holding a manila folder. He walked slowly up our front path, bypassed the doorbell, and slipped a thick envelope directly into our mailbox before turning around and driving away without looking back.
Amy’s heart skipped a beat. She remembered the police lights, the hostile relatives, the terrifying weeks before the trial. The fragile sense of safety she had built for herself and Frederick suddenly felt precarious once again.
Putting down her mug, she walked out to the mailbox, her hands trembling as she pulled out the heavy envelope.
There was no return address. Just her name written in crisp, typed black letters: To Amy Bennett.
She tore open the flap. Inside was a single photograph of our house taken from across the street, and a typed note that chilled her blood:
“Your husband thinks he won. Tell him to drop the Chattanooga investigation, or the next house warming gift won't be on paper.”
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Without hesitation, Amy pulled out her phone and dialed my number.
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