Chapter 9 - Learning to Be NineHealing did not happen the way movies pretend.
Within hours, Rachel’s house had cameras.
Police coordinated with Leo’s school.
His routine changed.
Pickups became unpredictable.
Baseball practices were temporarily suspended.
Leo noticed immediately.
“Did Greg escape?”
Rachel told him no.
That was true.
“Then why are cops outside?”
She looked at Brooks.
Brooks looked at me.
Eventually, Rachel gave him a limited version.
“Somebody who knew Greg may be trying to scare us.”
Leo’s face drained.
“Rebecca?”
“She’s still in prison.”
“Then who?”
“We don’t know yet.”
That answer frightened him more than any name would have.
Detective Martinez returned to the old case files.
There had been hundreds of online buyers for Greg’s videos.
Most anonymous.
Most impossible to trace without extensive warrants.
But one account appeared repeatedly.
Username: GravelKing77.
This person paid more than anyone else.
Requested specific footage.
Sent Greg instructions.
And after Greg’s arrest, the account vanished.
“What kinds of instructions?” I asked.
Martinez hesitated.
“Escalation.”
I knew what that meant.
“About Leo?”
“We’re looking.”
Digital investigators recovered archived messages from one of Greg’s devices.
Most concerned animals.
Then they found a conversation from several weeks before Emily died.
GravelKing77: People get bored. You need something real.
Greg: Animals are real.
GravelKing77: Not enough.
Greg: I’m not stupid.
GravelKing77: Everyone has limits until the price is right.
Then, three days later, a transfer.
Five thousand dollars.
After the transfer, Greg searched for infections in children.
My skin crawled.
“You think someone paid him to hurt Leo?”
“We think someone encouraged him.”
“Who?”
“We have an IP trail.”
The account had connected repeatedly through public networks.
Libraries.
Coffee shops.
Hotel Wi-Fi.
But one login stood out.
It came from the employee network of the veterinary clinic where Rebecca worked.
That initially pointed back to her.
Then investigators reviewed the clinic staff list.
One name caught their attention.
Dr. Samuel Keene.
Owner of the clinic.
Fifty-eight.
Respected veterinarian.
Donor to local charities.
No criminal record.
And the man who had personally filed the theft complaint against Greg after clinic supplies disappeared.
Martinez interviewed him.
Keene was cooperative.
He denied using the account.
Denied knowing about the videos.
Denied any relationship with Greg beyond the renovation theft.
Then investigators obtained his financial records.
He had sent Rebecca Shaw nearly forty thousand dollars over two years through a private consulting company.
“For what?” I asked.
“He says animal-research assistance.”
“Was there research?”
“None we can verify.”
Rebecca initially refused to talk.
Then investigators showed her Leo’s school photograph.
She began crying.
Finally, she told them the truth.
Greg’s operation had not begun with Greg.
It began with Keene.
Keene had supplied sick animals.
Unregistered medications.
Medical waste.
He had encouraged Greg to create increasingly disturbing footage for private buyers.
He never appeared on camera.
Never visited the shed when recordings were active.
Never touched Leo.
But according to Rebecca, Keene had known exactly what Greg intended to do.
Worse, after the arrests, Keene feared Leo might remember seeing him at the property.
“Did Leo?” I asked.
Martinez nodded.
“Brooks showed him a neutral photo lineup.”
“And?”
“He identified Keene.”
My stomach dropped.
“When did he see him?”
“At the shed. More than once.”
Keene was arrested two days later.
Police searched his clinic.
In a locked basement room, they discovered computers containing copies of the videos.
Financial records.
Anonymous accounts.
And drafts of the letters sent to me.
The photograph of Leo at school was on his phone.
The nightmare had a face.
This time, Leo did not have to testify.
The digital evidence was overwhelming.
Keene pleaded guilty to conspiracy, stalking, obstruction, financial crimes, animal cruelty, and multiple other offenses.
His sentence would keep him imprisoned for decades.
When Rachel told Leo he had been arrested, Leo asked only one question.
“Is everyone gone now?”
Rachel looked at me before answering.
I wished I could guarantee the future.
No doctor can.
No detective can.
No parent can.
So Rachel chose something better than false certainty.
“The people who hurt you can’t reach you anymore.”
Leo thought about that.
Then nodded.
May you like
“Okay.”
That night, he went to baseball practice.
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