The final message was the worst.
“If you contact him or Lola again, Graham will learn what happened in Philadelphia.”
I looked at Rachel.
“What happened in Philadelphia?”
Shame filled her eyes.
“Nothing criminal. Graham was struggling with addiction three years ago. He disappeared for two days. I found him in a motel and brought him home. Nobody knows except my family.”
“How could this person know?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did you tell me not to contact you?”
Rachel wrapped her arms tightly around herself.
“Because the message arrived seconds after you called. Whoever sent it knew you were trying to reach me.”
A chill ran through me.
Someone had been watching both of us.
I asked Rachel to forward every message and photograph.
She hesitated before agreeing.
“Please be careful, Lola,” she said. “This is not a rejected woman or some jealous stranger.”
“You think my father is involved?”
“I think someone close to him is.”
I wanted to defend him.
Instead, I remembered how defensive he had become when I questioned him about his dates.
I left Rachel outside her office and drove straight to my father’s house.
He answered wearing an old sweatshirt and slippers.
His hair was messy, and dark circles rested beneath his eyes.
“Rachel has not answered me,” he said. “Did I do something wrong?”
The hurt in his voice sounded genuine.
Without replying, I walked inside.
He followed me into the living room.
“Lola, what happened?”
“Someone threatened her.”
His face froze.
“What?”
I showed him the messages.
He read every one slowly, his expression shifting from confusion to fear.
“This happened after our date?”
“Yes.”
He handed back the phone.
“We should call the police.”
“I already told Rachel we should.”
“Then why are you here?”
I studied him carefully.
“Because the sender knew personal details about her. They also knew when I called.”
He stared at me.
“You think I did this?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
