Chapter 2 - THE NOTE UNDER THE DOOR
Ethan Whitmore did not sleep.
By sunrise, the entire Whitmore Ranch had become a crime scene.
The sheriff's deputies searched the barn, the nursery, the surrounding fields, and every vehicle parked on the property. They found no weapon. No intruder. No footprints that the rain had not already destroyed.
And they found no Mara Bennett.
Ethan stood inside the nursery while Dr. Harris examined the triplets.
All three babies had dangerously high fevers.
The doctor worked quickly, checking their breathing and listening to their tiny chests.
“They need the hospital,” he finally said.
Ethan nodded.
“Then we go.”
“But before we leave,” Dr. Harris added, “I need to ask you something.”
Ethan looked at him.
“What?”
“Have they been sick before?”
“No.”
“Any new medication? New formula? Anything unusual?”
Ethan's eyes moved toward the three cribs.
“No.”
Dr. Harris frowned.
“Then we need to find out what caused this.”
Behind them, Sheriff Cole entered the room.
“Mr. Whitmore.”
Ethan turned.
“Did you find her?”
“No.”
Ethan's expression hardened.
“You've been searching for four hours.”
“She may have left the property.”
“She was soaking wet, exhausted, and had no vehicle.”
“Then someone helped her.”
Ethan looked at him.
“Who?”
The sheriff didn't answer.
That silence was enough.
Ethan turned toward the window.
Outside, Caleb Rourke stood beside the stables, speaking to two deputies.
The ranch manager looked calm.
Too calm.
“Where is Caleb?” Ethan asked.
“He's being questioned.”
“About what?”
“The shooting.”
Ethan turned.
“What shooting?”
Sheriff Cole stared at him.
“The two cracks you heard last night?”
Ethan nodded.
“We found two bullet holes in the barn door.”
The room went silent.
Ethan's eyes moved to the babies.
Someone had fired at the barn while his children were inside.
Someone had known exactly where they were.
And someone had wanted Mara silenced.
“Did you find the bullets?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because the shooter used a small-caliber weapon, and the rounds passed through the door.”
Ethan clenched his jaw.
“Then what are you waiting for?”
“We're investigating.”
“No.”
Ethan stepped closer.
“You're searching for a waitress.”
Sheriff Cole held his gaze.
“Because she was inside the barn with your children.”
“She was protecting them.”
“Maybe.”
Ethan's eyes narrowed.
The sheriff continued.
“But if she knows who fired those shots, she may be in danger.”
That sentence followed Ethan all the way to the hospital.
The triplets were placed in separate beds in the pediatric intensive care unit.
Ethan sat between them.
For three hours, he watched machines measure their heartbeats.
For three hours, he held his breath every time one of them coughed.
At 11:26 in the morning, Dr. Harris entered the room.
“We found something.”
Ethan stood immediately.
“What?”
“The fever isn't from a common infection.”
Ethan stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“We found traces of a chemical compound in their blood.”
Ethan felt the floor shift beneath him.
“What kind of compound?”
“We're still testing it.”
“Were they poisoned?”
Dr. Harris hesitated.
“Possibly.”
Ethan's hands curled into fists.
“Who would poison three babies?”
The doctor didn't answer.
Ethan turned toward the glass wall.
Outside, Sheriff Cole was speaking with a deputy.
Caleb was nowhere in sight.
Ethan reached for his phone.
He called the ranch manager.
No answer.
He called again.
Still nothing.
Then a message appeared.
We need to talk before you accuse the wrong person.
The number was unknown.
Ethan stared at the screen.
A second message appeared.
Mara Bennett is not the enemy.
He immediately called the number.
It was disconnected.
His pulse quickened.
A third message arrived.
Ask Caleb about the night Caroline died.
Ethan froze.
His wife.
Caroline.
For three months, he had refused to question the circumstances of her death.
The doctors had called it a rare postpartum complication.
The police had called it tragic.
Caleb had called it fate.
But now a stranger was telling him to ask about that night.
Ethan looked at the three babies.
Then he called Sheriff Cole.
“Come back.”
The sheriff returned ten minutes later.
Ethan handed him the phone.
“Find out who sent this.”
Cole read the messages.
His expression changed.
“You recognize the number?”
“No.”
“Then why does this concern Caroline?”
Ethan looked at him.
“Because whoever sent it knows something about my wife.”
The sheriff was silent.
Ethan continued.
“Reopen her case.”
Cole stared at him.
“Mr. Whitmore—”
“Reopen it.”
“Her death was ruled accidental.”
“Three months ago, my wife died. Last night, someone kidnapped my children from their nursery, poisoned them, and fired at a woman who found them.”
May you like
He stepped closer.
“I am done believing everything is a coincidence.”
