Chapter 5 - The Trap at School
Jordan did not go to school the next morning.
For once, he didn’t argue.
Vanessa’s warning had rattled him.
It rattled me more.
I called the principal before classes began.
Dr. Mitchell listened quietly as I explained the situation.
“I need to know whether anyone unfamiliar has been asking about my son.”
There was a pause.
“Actually…”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“A man contacted the guidance office last week.”
Jordan looked at me.
“What man?”
“He identified himself as a family friend.”
“Name?”
“Daniel Cross.”
Every hair on my arms stood up.
“What did he want?”
“He asked about Jordan’s attendance and whether he was applying to colleges out of state.”
My hand clenched around the phone.
“Did you give him information?”
“No. He wasn’t authorized.”
I exhaled.
“Anything else?”
Dr. Mitchell hesitated.
“He came to campus once.”
Jordan stood.
“When?”
“Two days ago.”
“What did he do?”
“He said he was dropping something off for a student.”
My voice hardened.
“Which student?”
A pause.
“Jordan.”
Jordan went pale.
“I never got anything.”
Dr. Mitchell said, “Because the front office refused to accept the package without a parent’s name attached.”
“What was it?”
“I don’t know.”
The package was still in the office.
I called Officer Ramirez.
He told us not to touch it.
Within an hour, police collected it.
There was no weapon.
No explosive.
Nothing dramatic.
That almost made it worse.
Inside was a small envelope containing cash and a handwritten note.
Jordan—
Thanks for helping with the documents.
More soon.
No signature.
Jordan stared at the photograph Officer Ramirez showed us.
“He was trying to make it look like I was involved.”
I felt sick.
“If Dad found this…”
Jordan’s voice faded.
I understood.
Daniel wasn’t just watching him.
He was building something.
A story.
The same way Vanessa had.
Officer Ramirez nodded.
“It appears someone wanted this found.”
“Why?”
“To create suspicion.”
Jordan laughed bitterly.
“So first I’m a creep. Now I’m some kind of thief?”
I put my hand on his shoulder.
Ramirez looked at me.
“You need to take this seriously.”
“I already am.”
“No. I mean the escalation.”
He lowered his voice.
“This man approached a minor’s school and attempted to plant evidence suggesting financial misconduct.”
Jordan’s face tightened at the word minor.
Ramirez continued.
“We’re going to speak with Daniel.”
“Will you arrest him?”
“Not based only on this.”
I hated that answer.
“But this adds to the pattern.”
Back home, Jordan paced the living room.
“I want to talk to Brianna.”
“Why?”
“Because Vanessa said Daniel was using someone at school.”
“Your school?”
“She said ‘his school.’”
“That’s what I thought too.”
Jordan grabbed his phone.
I almost stopped him.
Then I reconsidered.
“Speaker.”
He called Brianna.
She answered after two rings.
“Jordan?”
“Did your mom ever mention someone at my school?”
Silence.
“Brianna?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
I sat beside him.
Brianna whispered, “Maybe Chloe.”
Jordan froze.
“Chloe Bennett?”
“Yes.”
I didn’t know the name.
Jordan did.
“She’s in my chemistry class.”
Brianna continued.
“She’s Daniel’s niece.”
Jordan looked at me.
“What?”
“I saw her with him once.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I didn’t know it mattered!”
Her voice broke.
“I didn’t know any of this mattered until Mom made me lie about you!”
Jordan softened.
“Hey.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
She started crying.
“I feel disgusting.”
Jordan’s face changed.
“Brianna, listen to me.”
Silence.
“You did something wrong.”
She sniffed.
“But you told the truth afterward.”
Another pause.
“And I don’t hate you.”
I looked at my son.
In that moment, I saw more maturity in him than I had seen in some adults my entire life.
Brianna whispered, “Thank you.”
Jordan asked, “What did Chloe do?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Brianna inhaled sharply.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“I heard Mom say they needed a photo.”
Jordan and I looked at each other.
“What photo?”
“I don’t know.”
“Brianna.”
“I swear.”
Then she said, “Mom said, ‘If Marcus sees Jordan with her, he’ll start doubting him.’”
Jordan’s expression collapsed.
“With Chloe?”
“I think so.”
I stood.
“They were trying to frame him.”
Jordan looked furious.
“Again.”
I called Dr. Mitchell.
We arranged a meeting.
Chloe’s parents were contacted.
By afternoon, her mother arrived at school looking confused and angry.
Chloe sat across from us.
Seventeen.
Blonde hair pulled into a ponytail.
Hands buried in her sleeves.
She avoided Jordan’s eyes.
Dr. Mitchell placed the envelope photograph on the table.
“Chloe, do you know anything about this?”
“No.”
Jordan spoke.
“Do you know Daniel Cross?”
Her eyes flickered.
“My uncle.”
“Did he ask you to do anything involving me?”
“No.”
Her mother turned.
“Chloe.”
“I said no.”
Officer Ramirez leaned forward.
“Daniel visited campus two days ago.”
Chloe went pale.
“He wasn’t supposed to.”
The room went silent.
Her mother whispered, “What?”
Chloe started crying.
“He said it was just a joke.”
Jordan’s jaw tightened.
“What was?”
She covered her face.
“He wanted me to take pictures with Jordan.”
“What kind?”
“Like… close pictures.”
Jordan recoiled.
“We barely talk.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“He said someone was jealous and needed proof.”
I stared at her.
“Proof of what?”
Chloe shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Ramirez said gently, “Chloe, did Daniel give you money?”
She nodded.
“How much?”
“Two hundred dollars.”
Her mother closed her eyes.
“For what?”
“To get Jordan alone.”
Jordan’s face turned red.
Chloe continued quickly.
“But I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because it was weird.”
She looked at Jordan for the first time.
“I’m sorry.”
Officer Ramirez asked, “Did Daniel tell you what would happen with the photographs?”
Chloe swallowed.
“He said they were going to show his dad.”
I felt my stomach drop.
“Why?”
“He said once Jordan’s dad stopped trusting him, everything would be easier.”
The same phrase.
Easier.
Easier to control.
Easier to isolate.
Easier to steal from.
That evening, when Jordan and I returned home, another envelope was sitting beneath our front door.
No stamp.
No name.
Inside was a photograph of me leaving Helen’s law office.
Someone had taken it from across the street.
On the back, someone had written:
Stop digging.
Jordan stared at it.
Then I turned it over again.
May you like
There was a second line.
Or next time, we stop asking nicely.
