Chapter 6: The Phone That Told A Different Story
The police officer’s question was simple.
“Whose phone was used to send the message?””
Nobody answered.
Because we all knew.
Jordan’s phone.
The phone sitting on the table.
The phone he had carried for years.
The phone everyone assumed belonged only to him.
“I didn’t send it,” Jordan repeated.
Karen nodded.
“We are not saying you did.””
“But you think I did.””
“No.””
Jordan laughed quietly.
“Everyone says that before they ask more questions.””
I looked at him.
This time, I didn’t see anger.
I saw exhaustion.
A person who was tired of defending himself.
“Can we see the details?”” I asked.
Karen turned the laptop toward us.
“The message was sent at 2:14 a.m.””
Jordan frowned.
“I was asleep.””
“Can anyone confirm that?””
I answered immediately.
“Yes.””
Karen looked at me.
“I can.””
“Who?””
“I can.””
She waited.
Then I realized.
I was about to admit something I had not told anyone.
“I sleep lightly.””
Jordan looked at me.
“Dad?””
“I heard you come downstairs that night.””
His expression changed.
“You did?””
I nodded.
“You were making tea.””
Jordan stared.
“I couldn’t sleep.””
“When was this?””
“Two fourteen?””
I nodded.
“Yes.””
Karen typed something.
“Interesting.””
“What?””
“The message was sent at 2:14 a.m., but your phone was connected to the home Wi-Fi at that exact time.””
“That proves it was him,” Claire said softly.
Everyone looked at her.
She immediately regretted the words.
“No. I mean…”
Jordan looked away.
And I felt that old fear return.
Not fear that he was guilty.
Fear that circumstances kept making him look guilty.
Karen shook her head.
“Not necessarily.””
She pointed at the screen.
“There’s something else.””
“What?””
“The message was sent through a web browser.””
Jordan frowned.
“I don’t understand.””
“It means someone may have accessed the account from another device.””
The room went silent.
“Someone used his account?””
“Yes.””
“Can you find out who?””
“We are investigating.””
I looked at Jordan.
For the first time that morning, he looked slightly relieved.
Not because everything was fixed.
But because someone finally believed there might be another explanation.
When we got home, nobody spoke much.
The entire family was exhausted.
Maya went upstairs.
Claire followed her.
I stayed downstairs with Jordan.
“You okay?””
He shrugged.
“No.””
Fair answer.
“I’m sorry.””
He looked at me.
“You already said that.””
“I know.””
“Then why say it again?””
“Because I mean it again.””
He looked down.
After a moment, he asked:
“Do you really think someone is trying to frame me?””
I thought carefully.
“I think someone wants us distracted.””
“From what?””
I looked toward the stairs.
“Maya.””
Jordan became quiet.
That possibility had not escaped him.
“If Ethan wanted revenge…”
“He wouldn’t just attack me,” Jordan said.
“He would attack what I care about.””
I nodded.
That was exactly what scared me.
That evening, I checked our home security camera footage.
Something I rarely did.
The camera covered the front entrance and driveway.
I searched the time around 2:14 a.m.
At first, nothing.
Then I saw it.
A figure.
A person standing outside our house.
Wearing a hood.
Holding something.
My heart started pounding.
I paused the video.
Zoomed in.
The person turned slightly.
Not enough to see a face.
But enough to see something familiar.
A backpack.
A logo.
Westbrook High.
I called Jordan.
He came downstairs.
“What?””
I showed him the screen.
His expression changed instantly.
“Dad.””
“What?””
“That backpack.””
“Whose is it?””
He stared at the image.
Then whispered:
“Ethan’s.””
The room went cold.
Because suddenly, the message was no longer the biggest mystery.
The bigger question was:
May you like
Why had Ethan Collins been standing outside our house in the middle of the night?
And what was he trying to hide?
