Chapter 4

All the way home, that prickling sense of being followed just wouldn't let up.

I took the long way on purpose, cut through the crowded restaurant block, and came into Sunrise Gardens through the side gate.

In the elevator, it was just me and my reflection.

The metal doors reflected a tall figure with short hair, a suit, and no expression at all.

No wonder people took me for a man.

The elevator stopped on the seventh floor.

As I reached my door and fished out my keys, I spotted a note stuck to the handle.

It was printed in neat block letters. [Be smart and pay up, or this gets ugly for you.]

There was no signature.

I ripped it off, crumpled it up, and tossed it straight into the trash.

I stepped inside, locked the door behind me, and leaned my back against it.

My heart was pounding, but it wasn't fear.

It was pure anger.

I walked over to the landline and dialed Julia's number.

"They're upping their game now," I said, telling her about the note.

Julia's voice dropped. "A threat letter. Did you keep it?"

"I threw it away."

"Next time, don't. Keep the evidence." She paused. "Jordan, you need to be careful right now. A man like Mark will use anything."

"I know," I said, watching the sky darken outside. "But the more they try to push me, the more I'm not backing down."

"That's the spirit," Julia laughed. "But don't let your guard down. Safety comes first. Lock your doors and windows at night, and don't open up for strangers."

"Got it."

After hanging up, I sat on the couch, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Dusk slowly swallowed the room.

The whole thing was a stone dropped in water, and the rings kept spreading. Gloria's false accusation, then the gossip in the complex, and now somebody following me and leaving notes.

They were trying to force me to give in.

They were using public opinion and fear and the crudest pressure they could find to make me admit to something I never did and hand over the money.

Six hundred fifty thousand dollars.

The nerve of them, asking for that.

I thought about what Max's mom said, and the trust in Max's eyes when he looked at me.

I also remembered those vicious comments on the forum, and that icy note stuck to my door.

In this world, some people trust a person without asking for proof, and others tear that same person down without asking anything at all.

I had to stand with the ones who believed me.

Halfway through my meal, Julia texted me: [Got the summons. Mark is moving fast, and he already filed his exhibit list.]

I asked: [What evidence?]

Julia: [An injury report on Sophie, bruises on her arm. Plus a psych evaluation with a PTSD diagnosis.]

I nearly laughed out loud at that.

I replied: [Forty seconds, and they built all of that?]

Julia: [That's what a professional crew does. Don't worry, it falls apart the second we push on it. What about you? Any ideas?]

I put down my fork and typed: [Yes. Two things.]

Julia: [Go ahead.]

I worte: [First, pull Mark's old cases, especially anything that looks like a false accusation. I doubt this is his first.]

Julia: [Already on it.]

I continued: [Second, I want to see Sophie. Alone.]

Julia sent back a question mark.

I explained: [She's the whole case. She's nineteen, not a child. Perjury carries real consequences. Did her mother mention that?]

Julia: [You want to crack her?]

I replied: [Worth a try.]

Julia was quiet for a few minutes, then answered: [I'll work something out. It won't be easy. Gloria keeps her on a short leash.]

I replied: [Do what you can.]

Outside, it was pitch black, and the streetlights in the neighborhood flickered on one by one.

I stared at my reflection in the glass.

Short hair and hard features, and nothing that matched what people expected a woman to look like.

But just because I don't look like a woman, does that mean I have to be a man?

Or that I have to be a bad person?

The logic was ridiculous enough to be funny.