Chapter 9 - The Mysterious Visitor Who Built This House
I zoomed in on the man's face captured by the infrared camera lens, studying his sharp, angular features.
He looked remarkably like Caroline, sharing the same dark hair and piercing green eyes, though hardened by years of criminal life.
His name flashed in my mind from old family conversations Caroline had desperately tried to bury: Marcus.
He was the architect who had secretly designed this suburban house before selling it to us at a suspiciously low market price.
He hadn't sold the home to move on; he had built it as a permanent sanctuary for his illicit operations.
And my wife had walked right back into his trap the moment her brother broke out of federal custody.
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My phone buzzed loudly on the desk, vibrating against the wooden surface with an incoming text message from an unknown number.
I picked it up, staring at the single sentence displayed across the illuminated screen: Open the front door, Ryan. We need to talk.
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