Chapter 12 - Peter Monroe Had Been Watching The Carters For Years
Peter Monroe was seventy-one.
Michael’s older brother.
Leah had seen him twice as a child.
Then never again.
At least that was what she believed.
Walter knew more.
Of course.
“When did you last speak to him?” Leah asked.
Walter stared at the floor.
“Six years ago.”
Daniel laughed sharply.
“Six.”
Walter looked at him.
“He contacted me after Michael died.”
“Michael died fourteen years ago.”
“Yes.”
“And you stayed in touch for eight years.”
“Occasionally.”
Leah looked disgusted.
“Why?”
Walter took a breath.
“Peter blamed me.”
“For the letters.”
“For Michael.”
Leah’s jaw tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“He believed if I hadn't kept you away, Michael would have stayed sober.”
Leah laughed.
“That's ridiculous.”
“Yes.”
Walter knew.
Peter didn't.
He had built his grief around a cleaner explanation.
“Why come to your house?” I asked.
Walter looked at Sophie.
“I did not know he had.”
Daniel’s face hardened.
“You brought him.”
“No.”
“Sophie saw him with you.”
Walter shook his head slowly.
Then looked at her.
“Sophie, did he get out of my car?”
She frowned.
“No.”
“Where did he come from?”
“The sidewalk.”
Walter closed his eyes.
Peter had followed him.
Not invited.
That changed the shape of the April visit.
“Why was he watching your house?” Leah asked Daniel.
Daniel shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Eric said:
“Does Peter know about Mia?”
Leah’s face changed.
“He shouldn't.”
“Does he know about Sophie?”
“Anyone can find that.”
I hated the sentence.
Walter looked toward the camera monitors.
“Peter contacted me two months ago.”
Leah stared.
“You said six years.”
“I said spoke.”
She laughed.
“Family vocabulary is incredible.”
Walter continued.
“He left messages.”
“What did he want?”
“To know whether Daniel had contacted you.”
Leah’s face went pale.
“You answered?”
“No.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Walter looked at her.
She almost laughed again.
Right.
Same man.
Same instinct.
“He said Michael had left something for you.”
Leah stiffened.
“What?”
“I never asked.”
For once, maybe true.
Daniel said:
“Why would Peter send Mia to the alley?”
Walter shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Leah picked up her phone.
“I’m calling him.”
Walter stood.
“No.”
She turned.
His hand froze in the air.
He lowered it.
Leah stared.
“Try that again.”
Walter swallowed.
“I think he's trying to recreate something.”
“What?”
“The pickup.”
Eric looked toward the old school map.
Twenty-two years ago Michael had taken Leah from the alley for four hours without Walter’s permission.
He brought her back before dinner.
Nothing happened.
But Walter treated it as proof Michael could not be trusted.
Peter had always said Walter exaggerated it to justify cutting Michael off.
Now Mia had been instructed to wait in the same place.
Sophie substituted for "staff."
Claire arrived and reacted exactly as Peter might have expected.
Protective.
Territorial.
Walter watching.
Daniel scrambling.
Leah said:
“He wanted us in the same argument.”
No one answered.
I thought about the camera.
The old message.
The timing.
Peter had not tried to kidnap Mia.
He had positioned her.
Used her to force a family scene.
I felt sick.
Daniel said:
“He's doing to Mia what we did to Leah.”
Leah turned.
“Don't put yourself outside that sentence.”
He stopped.
She called Peter.
Straight to voicemail.
No greeting.
Just a beep.
Leah said:
“Peter, you do not contact my daughter again.”
She paused.
Then added:
“If you have something from my father, send it to me. Not Daniel. Not Walter. Me.”
She ended the call.
Her hand shook.
Mia, sitting beside Sophie, watched.
“Who was that?”
Leah looked at her daughter.
“Someone who thought he could use you to talk to me.”
Mia frowned.
May you like
“Why didn't he just call?”
Nobody in the room had a respectable answer.
