Chapter 39 Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE~
Agent Torres's team analyzed the message immediately. Like all the others, it came from an untraceable burner phone.
"The phrase 'The Last Victim' suggests this person sees themselves as the final person James Harris hurt," Agent Torres theorized. "Someone we haven't identified yet."
"How is that possible?" Declan asked. "You've investigated everyone connected to James. How could we have missed someone?"
"Maybe it's not someone directly connected," I suggested. "Maybe it's someone who was hurt indirectly. A family member of someone James destroyed. A child who grew up without a parent because of James's actions."
Agent Torres nodded slowly. "That would explain why we didn't find them in our initial investigation. We focused on direct victims. We didn't look at the ripple effects."
"So we start looking now," Declan said firmly. "We find this person before they can hurt anyone."
But finding "The Last Victim" proved harder than finding all the others combined.
Agent Torres's team reviewed every case connected to James Harris, looking for anyone they might have missed. They found dozens of people who'd been indirectly affected—children of his victims, spouses, parents.
But none of them seemed to fit the profile of someone planning an attack.
"Whoever this is, they're good at hiding," Agent Torres said after two weeks of investigation. "No digital footprint, no connections to any of the other groups, nothing."
Meanwhile, more messages came. One every few days, each more unsettling than the last.
I watched Liam's soccer game yesterday. He's very good. It would be a shame if something happened to him.
The twins are so innocent. They have no idea what their grandfather did. Should they pay for his sins?
Declan looks tired. The stress must be getting to him. Don't worry—it'll all be over soon.
"They're playing with us," I said to Dr. Martinez during an emergency therapy session. "Trying to break us down psychologically before they strike physically."
"And it's working," Dr. Martinez observed. "You're not sleeping. You're barely eating. Declan is having panic attacks. This person is destroying your mental health without even touching you."
"So what do I do?" I asked desperately. "How do I function when someone is constantly threatening my family?"
"You remember that you've survived worse than this," Dr. Martinez said. "You've faced actual attacks and come out the other side. These messages are scary, but they're just words. Until this person actually does something, you have the power to not let them control you."
She was right, but it was easier said than done.
The kids were starting to crack under the pressure too. Liam was having nightmares again. The twins were clingy and anxious.
"We're hurting them by being so scared," I told Declan. "Our fear is becoming their fear."
"Then we need to hide it better," Declan said. "Be scared when they're not around, but strong when they are."
We tried. We really tried. But kids aren't stupid. They knew something was wrong.
Finally, after three weeks of dead ends, Agent Torres got a break.
"We think we know who 'The Last Victim' is," she said during a briefing at our house.
"Who?" I asked eagerly.
"James Harris had a secretary twenty-five years ago. Her name was Helen Martinez. She committed suicide shortly after being fired from Norex."
"I remember Helen," Declan said slowly. "My father mentioned her once. He said she'd been embezzling and he had to let her go."
"That's the official story," Agent Torres said. "But we did some digging. Helen wasn't embezzling. James was. He fired her when she discovered what he was doing."
"So Helen was another victim," I said.
"Yes," Agent Torres confirmed. "And she left behind a twelve-year-old daughter. Rachel Martinez."
I felt my blood run cold. "Dr. Martinez? Our therapist?"
"Wait, what?" Declan said. "Our Dr. Martinez?"
"We think so," Agent Torres said. "The age fits. The background fits. And Dr. Rebecca Martinez—your therapist—has no records prior to age eighteen. It's like she didn't exist before then."
"She changed her name," I realized. "After her mother died."
"Probably," Agent Torres agreed. "We're trying to confirm, but Dr. Martinez seems to have vanished. Her office is closed. Her apartment is empty. She's gone."
Dr. Martinez. The woman I'd trusted with my deepest fears, my worst moments, my family's secrets.
She'd been planning this the whole time.
"How long?" I asked. "How long has she been plotting this?"
"We don't know," Agent Torres admitted. "But she became your therapist four years ago, right after Victoria's first attack. She positioned herself as a trusted advisor, someone who could get close to your family."
"And we let her," I said, feeling sick. "We told her everything. Every fear, every routine, every vulnerability."
"She knows exactly how to hurt us," Declan said, his face pale. "She knows what we're most afraid of."
"Which is why we need to find her fast," Agent Torres said. "She's dangerous precisely because she knows you so well."
Over the next twenty-four hours, the FBI launched a massive manhunt for Dr. Rebecca Martinez. But she'd covered her tracks well.
"No credit card usage, no phone activity, no sightings," Agent Torres reported. "She's either left the country or gone completely off the grid."
"What about her patients?" I asked. "Can you track her through them?"
"We're interviewing everyone," Agent Torres said. "But most of her patients don't know anything about her personal life. She was very private."
That night, I got another message.
Did you figure it out yet? Did you realize I've been in your head for years? I know every fear, every weakness, every pressure point. And now I'm going to use that knowledge to destroy you. Not quickly. Slowly. Painfully. The way your family destroyed my mother. - Rachel
"She wants us to suffer," I told Declan after showing him the message. "This isn't about revenge. It's about torture."
"Then we don't let her win," Declan said firmly. "We don't fall apart. We stay strong, stay together, and wait for her to make a mistake."
But Rachel Martinez didn't make mistakes. She'd been planning this for too long.
Two days later, Liam came home from school upset.
"Someone took a picture of me today," he said. "A woman I didn't know. She was in a car across from the school. When I looked at her, she smiled and took a picture with her phone."
"Did you tell your teacher?" I asked, trying to stay calm.
"Yes, but by the time she came outside, the car was gone," Liam said.
Rachel was getting bolder.
"We need to pull the kids out of school," I told Declan. "Keep them home until this is resolved."
"And what? Lock them in the house indefinitely?" Declan asked. "That's no way to live."
"It's better than having them kidnapped or hurt," I argued.
We compromised. The kids would stay home for a week while the FBI intensified their search for Rachel. After that, we'd reassess.
But a week passed with no progress.
"She's too smart," Agent Torres admitted. "She knows how we operate, knows what we're looking for. She's staying one step ahead."
On the eighth day, I received a package in the mail. Inside was a flash drive and a note.
Watch this. Then we'll talk. - Rachel
Agent Torres's tech team analyzed the flash drive for viruses before letting us view the contents.
It was a video. Rachel Martinez sitting in what looked like a hotel room, speaking directly to the camera.
"Hello, Anita. Hello, Declan. By now you know who I am and what James Harris did to my mother. You probably think this is about revenge. It's not. It's about justice."
She paused, her expression calm and cold.
"My mother was a good woman. She worked hard, raised me alone, tried to do everything right. And then James Harris destroyed her. He framed her for his crimes, fired her publicly, ruined her reputation. She couldn't find another job. Couldn't support us. Fell into depression. And eventually, she decided she couldn't live with the shame anymore."
Rachel's voice cracked slightly.
"I was twelve years old when I found my mother's body. Twelve years old when I read her suicide note explaining what James Harris had done to her. And I vowed that day that I would make the Harris family pay."
She looked directly into the camera.
"I've spent twenty-five years planning this. Twenty-five years studying psychology, getting close to you, learning everything about you. And now it's time."
The video ended.
"She's going to kill us," I said quietly. "This isn't about scaring us. She's actually planning to kill us."
"We're going to find her first," Agent Torres promised. "The hotel room in that video—we're analyzing it now, trying to figure out where it was recorded."
But finding the hotel would take time. Time we might not have.
Around 3 AM, I heard something downstairs. A quiet creaking, like someone walking on our wooden floors.
I woke Declan silently, pointing toward the door.
He nodded and reached for his phone to call security.
But before he cou
ld dial, the bedroom door opened.
Rachel Martinez stood in the doorway, holding a gun.
"Hello, Anita. Hello, Declan. I think it's time we had a real conversation.”