And if I did… I might finally learn what was really behind that 1 a.m. scream.

Part 2 — The Trap

The station smelled like copier paper and old coffee. Ramirez led me into a small interview room: metal table, fluorescent lights, a tissue box that looked like it had been there since the 90s.

He brought water and said something I didn’t expect.

“I want you to hear this officially: you did the right thing by not wiring money in the middle of the night.”

“It didn’t feel right when you were on my porch,” I muttered.

“It rarely does,” he said. “People feel accused when they’re actually being protected.”

He had me write the details—time, words, threats—turning my night into lines on paper.

Then he showed me a printed screenshot of the text. “Do you recognize the name on the account?”

I stared at it. Something about the initials tugged at my memory.

“No,” I said—too quickly.

Not because I was sure. Because my first reflex has always been loyalty, even when it hurts me.

Ramirez didn’t push. He just nodded. “Okay. We verify one piece at a time.”

A few minutes later, a woman entered—plain blazer, sharp eyes, calm posture.

“Detective Green,” she introduced herself.

She sat and said, “We’re not calling anyone yet. Not your parents, not your brother, not your sister.”

“My sister?” I echoed.

Green didn’t react. “First, we verify the hospital claim.”

She had me search the hospital number manually, not from contacts. “Call County General’s main line.”

I did. My fingertip hovered before pressing call like the phone might bite.

A receptionist answered. I tried to keep my voice steady.

“Hi, I’m trying to locate a patient. Mark Wilson.”

Pause. Keyboard clicks.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” she said gently. “We don’t have anyone by that name in our emergency department.”

Relief hit first—then rage.

Green nodded once. “Now the money. This account info isn’t random. Someone either knows you, or knows enough about your family to sound convincing.”

She offered a plan.

“We run a controlled response. You reply to the text like you’re cooperating. You do not send money. You do not click anything. You only ask questions and let them expose themselves.”

My stomach flipped. “You want me to play along?”

“With us watching,” she said. “It’s safer than you doing it alone later.”

I nodded, because something in me had shifted from fear to focus.

Green dictated. I typed:

I can wire it. What hospital? What room? Who’s the doctor?

We waited.