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“Nope, we'll leave that part to the police, okay?” I give her a quick kiss on the head before straightening up. “We're just going to go check on things and make sure Daddy's friend is okay.”
I close her door and walk around to the driver's side, climbing in as quickly as I can, anxious to get to the Langford and Natalie.
“The pretty one?” Aria asks as I back out of the driveway and onto the street.
“What's that, sweetie?” I reply, my thoughts already miles ahead.
“Are we going to see your pretty friend?” Aria asks more clearly, bringing an unexpected warmth to my cheeks.
“Yes, my pretty friend. Natalie,” I answer, Natalie's flushed and disheveled face suddenly springing into my mind. In the backseat, Aria cheers, and I flip on the radio to avoid any further conversation on the topic.
Despite the quiet sleepiness of the town outside, I feel a growing sense of unease. The whole scenario, right down to Aria tagging along in the backseat, is hauntingly familiar. Natalie sounded truly shaken when we spoke on the phone, and the thought of her dealing with this alone knots my stomach.
What did the message say? Who would go to such lengths to disrupt this project—or is it targeted at me, specifically? Anger simmers beneath my skin, but I will myself to keep my composure, for both Aria's sake and Nat's.
I arrive at the Langford Building to find Natalie standing near the mangled remains of the scaffolding, her posture tense, her arms crossed tightly in front of her. The site is a mess, much worse than the last time this happened; metal poles bent and twisted, boards snapped, tables flipped, days of work callously undone in a deliberate act of sabotage.
Scanning the surrounding landscape, I search for anyone other than Nat, any sign that danger could still be lurking nearby. Finding nothing, I get out of the car and unbuckle Aria from her seat before slinging her up and onto my back. She wraps her arms tightly around my neck as I hook my hands under her knees, supporting her weight. I don't want to risk her getting injured from all the debris, and I want to keep her as close to me as possible.
“Julian,” Natalie greets me, relief momentarily flickering across her face as I approach, then a cautious curiosity. “And Aria?”
“Hi!” Aria chimes melodiously from her perch on my back. “You are Daddy's pretty friend! Wow, look Daddy, she has freckles!”
Startled, and perhaps a little embarrassed by the declaration, Natalie's face turns a charming shade of pink. Aria's lighthearted excitement is an almost comical contrast to the seriousness that has brought us here, but infectious, nonetheless.
“You're right, kiddo, she does,” I reply, deepening the flush on Nat’s cheeks.
Nat and I share a flustered look before she clears her throat and nods in the direction of the battered scaffolding. “It's pretty bad,” she says in a half whisper.
I nod, taking in the scene with a growing sense of outrage. “Let’s see this message,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
Concern creases Natalie's brow. “It's over here.”
I follow, taking care to keep Aria balanced on my back as I step over the chaotic remnants of the scaffolding. As soon as we round the corner of the building, I see it: the entire east wall covered in venomous words, red paint dripping from each letter, like blood from a wound.
“This is what you get, Rodriguez.”
It's Aria who reads it aloud, her innocent voice lending the message an even more disturbing edge. “Does that mean you, Daddy?”
The wind is knocked out of me, my lungs burning, my whole chest aching with the weight of the message.
“I think it does,” I manage to say, each word deepening my comprehension of how serious this situation has become. The message is threatening, and a clear expression of a personal vendetta.
This is what you get, Rodriguez.
Even when I close my eyes, the words are emblazoned in my vision, a haunting image that I can't escape.
“Do you know what it means?” Natalie asks, her voice low, almost afraid.
“No,” I answer, my mind racing through potential suspects, past conflicts, anything that might give us a clue. “But we’re going to find out, and we’re going to stop them.”
“Yeah! Get ‘em, Daddy!” Aria encourages, drawing an affectionate smile from Natalie that doesn't quite reach her eyes.
“I don't mean us, kiddo. I meant the police are going to find them and stop them,” I explain, shooting a pointed glance at Nat.
This isn't just a couple of punks we're dealing with. This is serious now. Dangerous. And I can't risk anyone's safety—professional or physical—over an issue that somehow revolves around me.
Natalie, avoiding my insistence, immediately lunges into an anxious attempt to smooth over the situation. “We can fix it,” she says hurriedly. “Get your guys in Monday morning, or today, even, and then?—”
