Page 62 of Unbreakable Bonds (The Boston Romance #2)

SAMANTHA

My fingers glide over the Bosendorfer's keys, each note hollow and empty. I've been playing for over an hour, trying to find comfort in the music, but my soul feels carved out. Five days. Five days since Dad and Alisha vanished into thin air.

The melody shifts to something darker as memories of the past few days flood back.

Amanda and Bella haven't left my side, taking turns staying at the apartment while Nick, Emma, and Brian check in daily.

Even Carmen – my grandmother – showed up the morning after, her usual hesitation melting away when she saw me crying.

She held me like a real grandmother should, while Nick used his TV contacts to broadcast Dad and Alisha's photos across Boston news.

But nothing. No leads. No traces. Just silence.

As night falls outside the window, my mind drifts to another wait that ended in tragedy – the day Mom died.

I was at my piano lesson, getting increasingly annoyed when she didn't show up to pick me up.

After two hours of calling and waiting, my teacher finally drove me home.

The police cars outside our house told me everything before anyone spoke a word.

A truck ran a stop sign. Head-on collision.

She died instantly. No chance to say goodbye.

Why does every person I love die or disappear? Is there something wrong with me? Am I jinxed?

My hands still on the keys as tears blur my vision. Every night for the past five days, I've stood at the baluster – Dad and Alisha's favorite spot – staring at the stars and praying for their return. But with each passing hour, that knot in my stomach grows tighter.

A soft knock breaks through my dark thoughts. "Sam?" Bella's voice is gentle but urgent. "Can you come to the kitchen? Police Officer Garson is here. It's important."

My heart stutters as I follow her. The older officer who interviewed me two days ago sits at our kitchen table, his expression unreadable. Amanda's already there, her face tight with tension.

"Are they dead?" The words burst out before I can stop them.

"Sam!" Amanda's horror matches the tremor in her voice.

"What? It's not a weird question." My voice cracks slightly. "It's been five days."

"Samantha," Officer Garson's tone is careful, measured. "We have a lead on who the stalker is."

He slides a piece of paper across the table. My breath catches as I study the sketch – dark brown hair, almost charcoal. But it's the eyes that make my skin crawl. Even on paper, those grey orbs seem to pierce right through me.

"Who is that?"

"This is what we believe the stalker looks like. We received this from a reliable source telling us that this man sent your father and Alisha the videos of you walking in the street. He's now our prime suspect. Do you recognize him?"

I shake my head, studying every detail of the face. "No, he doesn't look familiar." My hands twist together on the table. "Can I ask you something?"

"You can, but please, call me Garreth."

"Garreth..." I swallow hard. "Do you think they're still alive?"

"I wish I had an answer, Samantha. But keep the faith, young lady, because this," he lifts the sketch, "is a big lead. I—"

His phone cuts him off. We all freeze, watching as he answers. "Officer Garson." He nods several times, his expression shifting. "Okay, great. I'll update the family. I'll be back at the station in half an hour."

The silence as he ends the call feels like it might suffocate us.

"Someone at your grandmother's house identified him," he says finally.

My heart leaps. "Does my grandmother know who that man is?"

Garreth shakes his head. "No, but the housekeeper does."

"What, Jeremy?"

Amanda leans forward, pointing at the drawing. "Who is he?"

"His name is David Turner." Garreth's words fall like stones in still water. "And it seems he's Jeremy's son."

The world tilts sideways as the revelation hits. Jeremy – the kind, gentle man who's been like a second father to Dad, who's always had a smile and a kind word for me – his son is the monster who took them?

I stumble back from the table, memories assaulting me in waves. Jeremy at family dinners. Jeremy teaching me to make hot chocolate the way Dad likes it. Jeremy's proud smile when he heard me play piano for the first time.

How could his son do this to us?

"Sam?" Amanda's voice seems to come from far away. "Honey, breathe."

But I can't. Because suddenly, terrifyingly, I understand – this isn't just about Dad and Alisha anymore. This is personal. This is family.

And that makes it so much worse.