The car didn’t move for hours. It just sat there, two dark silhouettes visible through the windshield. Stacy tried to convince herself it was a neighbor’s guest, but deep down, she knew it was connected to her father’s sudden flight.
The next morning, the sedan followed them to the grocery store. It maintained a precise distance, never passing, never turning away. Stacy’s mother was terrified. “Who are they, Stacy? What did your father do?”
Desperate for answers, they called Mark’s brother, Larry. Larry was a quiet man who had spent his life in public service. He had always been the stable one in the family, the one they turned to in a crisis.
When Stacy mentioned the black sedan and gave him the license plate number, the line went dead silent. She could hear Larry’s heavy breathing on the other end. “Stay in the car,” he finally whispered. “Come to my house right now. Don’t stop for anyone.”
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