"You finally came."
His voice was calm, as if he'd been waiting for this exact moment.
Captain Finch caught the strangeness instantly and signaled his men to restrain the Limping Man.
The Limping Man didn't resist. Even pinned between two officers, he was still smiling.
"I've been waiting for you. Three whole months."
"You're finally here. Ha Haha! "
The sound of his laughter crawled under my skin. I looked past him, into the room.
What I saw stopped me cold.
Every wall was covered—floor to ceiling—with photographs of my daughter.
Julia as a little girl, pigtails bouncing, laughing in the park.
Julia in her school uniform, backpack slung over one shoulder, heading to class.
Julia in college, head bowed over a book in the library.
Julia in her wedding dress, arm linked through Silas's.
Julia eight months pregnant, watering flowers on the balcony, one hand resting on her belly.
Every photograph was crisp and clear. Childhood to adulthood. Girl to wife. Her entire life, mapped across those walls.
I stood frozen, unable to move.
Silas looked just as stunned.
Then something snapped behind his eyes. He lunged forward, seized the Limping Man by the collar, and snarled through clenched teeth:
"You animal. You've been watching Julia since she was a child?"
The Limping Man didn't fight back. If anything, his laughter grew louder.
"That's right."
"I killed her."
The words barely left his mouth before Silas's fist cracked across his face.
"I'll kill you!"
It was the first time I'd ever seen Silas lose control. He swung again and again, fists raining down, his eyes burning red—like a man hellbent on avenging his wife with his bare hands.
Captain Finch rushed in and hauled him back.
But Silas kept thrashing, kept straining forward, screaming at the Limping Man:
"You monster! What did Julia ever do to you? Why would you do this to her?"
The Limping Man said nothing in his own defense. He simply looked at me—a long, deep look.
Then, in a voice light as air:
"I confess. Take me away."
Captain Finch's brow furrowed. He waved his hand. "Take him."
Two officers stepped forward, cuffed him, and moved to escort him out.
He still didn't resist.
In fact, he walked faster than the officers, as though he couldn't wait to be taken in.
I didn't understand why, but watching him limp away, something gnawed at me. Too many things didn't add up.
Who was he? Why had he been secretly photographing my daughter since she was a child?
Why stalk her for over twenty years, only to strike when she was pregnant—in the most brutal way imaginable?
Why choose a location with no surveillance cameras, yet confess without a shred of resistance? Why tell us he'd been waiting for three months?
And the video—who sent it?
If someone wanted the ten-million-dollar reward, they could have walked straight into the police station with the evidence. Why wait three months, then release it anonymously to every media outlet in the city?
And Silas. That question he'd asked me at Julia's grave—about Sunny. Was he lying, or had my daughter been trying to tell me something?
Question after question circled through my mind, relentless, unanswerable.
Just when I thought my head might split open, my gaze drifted to the balcony outside the Limping Man's window.
A pot of sunflowers sat there.
Wilted. Dead.
My heart slammed against my ribs. My whole body began to tremble.
Because in that instant, I realized something terrifying.
