Chapter 3 - The Spider’s Web"Where is my son?" I demanded, my voice dropping into a harsh, deadly whisper as I walked several paces away from the deputies and Mason so he wouldn't hear. "Where is Brian, Marissa?!"
A soft, mocking chuckle echoed from the receiver.
"Brian is sleeping very soundly in the passenger seat," Marissa replied smoothly. "He took a double dose of his nighttime allergy medicine before we left. He won't wake up for another four hours. By the time he opens his eyes, we'll be far beyond the reach of your pathetic little town."
"You poisoned Lily!" I shouted, unable to contain the rage tearing through me. "She's in an ambulance right now fighting for her life! You locked Mason in a closet!"
"Lily is a sickly, weak little creature who was dragging this family down," Marissa said, her tone devoid of any human empathy, as cold as ice sliding over metal. "And Mason... Mason saw too much. He was always watching me, always whispering to his father. They were roadblocks, Thomas. Brian has a multi-million-dollar trust fund opening up on his thirty-fifth birthday next month. Do you really think I was going to let two bratty kids from his previous marriage siphon off half of that wealth?"
The horror of her words settled into my bones like lead.
Marissa hadn't just gotten tired of step-parenting. She had methodically planned to liquidate Brian’s children so she could have sole, undisputed control over his inheritance. The trip to Florida, the fake story about the aunt, the drugging of Lily, the locking away of Mason, and the deliberate release of toxic chemicals through the house’s heating vents—it was an execution disguised as an unfortunate tragic accident.
If I hadn't answered Lily’s late-night call... if I hadn't broken into that house...
Lily would have succumbed to the drug overdose and the fumes within hours. Mason would have suffocated in that sealed closet. And Marissa would have played the grieving stepmother, weeping at a double funeral while comforting my broken, unsuspecting son.
"You're a monster," I whispered.
"I'm a businesswoman, Thomas," she retorted calmly. "And if you tell the police another word, if you try to trace this call, I swear to you I will pull this car over into a dark rest stop and end your son before he ever wakes up. Do you understand me? You save one grandchild, you lose your son. That's the trade."
CLICK.
The line went dead.
My knees felt weak. I stumbled against the hood of a police cruiser, gasping for air as cold sweat poured down my neck.
Deputy Vance rushed over to me, having noticed my posture. "Thomas! Was that her? Was that Marissa?"
I looked at him, my mind spinning at a thousand miles an hour. If I told Vance about her threat, he would broadcast it over the police frequency. They would set up spike strips, initiate a high-speed pursuit, and in her desperation, Marissa might carry out her threat against Brian right there on the shoulder of the highway.
I couldn't risk my son's life. But I couldn't let her escape either.
"No," I lied, forcing my voice to stabilize. "It was... it was the hospital checking in."
Vance eyed me suspiciously, but before he could press further, a fire engine pulled up to the curb with its sirens blaring. Firefighters in heavy protective suits began rolling out hoses and pulling oxygen sensors from their rig to test the house's air quality.
I walked back over to Mason, who was huddled under his blanket, staring at me with terrified eyes.
"Grandpa," he whispered. "Was that her?"
I knelt down in front of him, taking his small, cold hands in mine. "Mason, I need you to listen to me very carefully. Did Marissa take your father's phone?"
Mason nodded slowly. "She took both of their phones before we left. She said she didn't want any 'distractions' on the road trip."
"Does your dad have his laptop in the car?"
Mason’s eyes lit up slightly. "Yes! He always keeps his work laptop in his black leather bag in the trunk!"
"Does that laptop have a GPS tracker on it for his company?"
"Yeah!" Mason said, his voice gaining a spark of hope. "Dad showed me last month! He has an app on his tablet that shows where his work computer is all the time in case it gets stolen!"
"Where is his tablet, Mason?" I asked, my heart pounding with renewed determination.
Mason reached under his shock blanket and pulled out a slim, black electronic device tucked into the waistband of his pants. "I hid it under my shirt before she locked me in the closet."
I could have kissed the boy right then and there.
"Good boy," I whispered, taking the tablet. "You brilliant, brave boy."
I opened the tablet, bypass-coded it using the date of Carol's birthday—a code Brian always used for family devices—and launched the tracking software.
A small, glowing green dot appeared on the digital map screen.
It was moving south along Interstate 95, currently passing through a dark, rural stretch of woods near the county line, roughly twenty-two miles ahead of us.
I looked at Deputy Vance, who was currently occupied directing the hazmat team near the front porch. I knew if I handed the tablet to the police, the bureaucracy of jurisdictional protocols would take hours. By then, Marissa would realize her caller ID was traced, ditch the car, or execute her final, terrifying threat.
I made my decision.
I walked Mason over to the lead firefighter, an elderly chief I recognized from town named Miller. "Chief, hold onto my grandson. Keep him safe until the child welfare officers arrive. I have to go."
"Thomas, wait! Where are you going?" Vance shouted, turning around as he saw me running toward my old pickup truck parked down the street.
May you like
"To save my son!" I roared, throwing myself into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut.
I slammed my foot on the accelerator, the engine of my 2018 Ford F-150 roaring to life, tires squealing against the wet asphalt as I sped into the dark, rain-slicked night.
