Page 52 of Finding Forever
While Sherlock happily trotted after Riley, I closed the folders on my desk. I absently rubbed my leg as I walked upstairs to find my hiking boots.
When I stepped onto the landing, Alex was about to go downstairs. “I’m coming with you,” I told him. “I just need to change my shoes.”
“Something’s come up. You need to see the email Bryant Security sent me.”
My whole body tensed. “What does it say?”
“They know the stalker’s name.”
Quickly, we moved downstairs. Instead of feeling overwhelmed with relief, I was stunned at how long it had taken to get this far.
“Bryant Security has contacted the police,” Alex told me. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the detectives involved in your case call us within the next few hours.”
“Does anyone know where the stalker lives?”
“Not yet, but Bryant Security’s working on it.” Alex strode into the living room.
As I passed the kitchen, Riley walked into the entryway. He looked at me and frowned. “What’s happened?”
“Bryant Security has identified the stalker.”
Riley stopped pulling his backpack onto his shoulders.
“Alex is about to show me their email. Do you want to see it?”
With a quick nod, he followed me into the living room.
Alex’s laptop sat on the table. “I connected all my devices to the satellite phone. It makes it easier to download information.” He pulled out a chair and started typing on his keyboard. “The email was sent an hour ago.” He moved out of his seat.
I held the chair out for Riley, then read the email over his shoulder. “I’ve never heard of Leith Chapman.”
“Your friend in the NYPD would have.” Alex pointed to the screen. “When you’ve finished the email, open the attachment.”
Riley looked up at me.
I nodded, and Riley clicked on the file. The document listed Leith Chapman’s convictions from the last seven years. “He’s been busy.” Burglary and aggravated assault charges slotted between two prison sentences. “Is Bryant Security sure he’s the stalker?”
“The fingerprints at the cottage match a set that was found at the warehouse.”
Riley scrolled to the next page.
Chapman’s photo stared back at us. He had the sort of face you could easily forget. Blue eyes, dirty blond hair to his shoulders, and a mouth that didn’t look as though it smiled often. No standout features that stuck in your mind, nothing to make you think he’s trouble.
“He’s from Staten Island,” Riley said. “Isn’t that where Aaron Connelly was born?”
I nodded.
Alex pulled our spreadsheet off a shelf. “That’s not the only similarity between the hero of your books and Chapman. They both served in the military. But, unlike Aaron, Chapman was dishonorably discharged.”
Riley moved to the next page and read Chapman’s family history. “How did Bryant Security find all this information?”
“It’s better not to ask,” Alex muttered. He pointed to the spreadsheet. “I’ve added more information to what we’ve already collected. Chapman spent fifteen years in the foster care system. When he was eighteen, he enlisted with the Army. Five years later, he was discharged and not long after that was arrested for aggravated burglary. Whatever he did was enough to send him to prison for a year. His life went downhill after that.”
I frowned. “He was released from his second prison sentence two years ago.”
“Bryant Security doesn’t know what he did after that. They couldn’t find his current address, but they did track down his stepbrother. I’m assuming the NYPD will try to find him. Open the second email.”
Riley closed the attachment and frowned at the screen. “Which one?”