Chapter 4: Memories, Puzzles, and Traps

After calming myself, I opened the box. But what I found left me baffled. Inside were two photo albums.

They were heavy, leather-bound, the kind you’d find in a grandmother’s attic. But these weren’t family memories.

The first album was full of photos of me and my wife—most of them candid shots, spanning more than ten years. My heart skipped a beat. This guy had been following us for years? What was he after? What kind of grudge could last so long?

There were pictures of us at county fairs, grocery shopping, even arguing in the parking lot. He’d seen it all.

Even more puzzling—what did he want? Would someone really stalk another person for a decade just for an apology? If so, he was either insane or a complete psycho.

The thought made my skin crawl. I flipped through the pages faster, hoping for some clue, some reason.

I kept flipping through. There were even older photos—pictures of me and my wife from our college days, some selfies, some group shots, some obviously taken by others. It was clear: this man wanted to know everything about me.

He’d mapped out our lives, every twist and turn, every secret glance. It was obsessive, terrifying. How long had he been watching?

I lit a cigarette, my mind in turmoil. What did this guy want? I thought about looking him up online, but I didn’t even have his name or photo. He was a complete mystery who’d crashed into my life—and a dangerous one.

The smoke curled toward the ceiling as I stared at the photos, trying to find meaning in the madness.

After finishing the first album, I stubbed out my cigarette and opened the second. This one had fewer photos, mostly of me growing up, even pictures of my parents, who had passed away long ago. What was he trying to say? That he’d investigated every detail of my life?

There were pictures from my Little League days, my high school graduation, even my parents’ old station wagon. Memories I hadn’t thought about in years.

A chill ran down my spine. All my secrets were probably laid bare before this man. Nothing was safe.

At the bottom of the box was a card with a sudoku puzzle I used to be good at. He really did know everything!

The puzzle was familiar, almost comforting in its logic. I solved it quickly, but the comfort didn’t last. Not for long.

I figured I’d have to solve the puzzle to know what to do next. It took me less than ten minutes to finish it, but I sat on the couch for half an hour, unmoving. The answer to the puzzle was the number of my old high school classroom. What was he planning?

I stared at the ceiling, heart pounding. Whatever was coming next, I knew it wouldn’t be good.

I thought about it—if he wanted a heartfelt apology, maybe he didn’t want to kill me. So I drove straight to my old high school. It was the weekend, so there were no students. I went into my old classroom. The next second, I felt dizzy, and when I came to, I was trapped in a red-brick room.

The walls were bare, the air stale. Panic clawed at my chest. I was trapped.

On the TV in the room was the man’s infuriating smile:

His face filled the screen, larger than life. That smug grin made my blood boil. He loved every second.

"I have a dog that’s hard to train. I hear you’re a pro—mind helping me out? This is part of your task, too."

His voice was sing-song, almost gleeful. I wanted to reach through the screen and throttle him.

Only then did I notice a dog crate in the room, covered with a black cloth. I opened it, and inside was an unconscious girl.

Her hair was tangled, her face pale. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen. A kid. I knelt beside her, pulse racing, realizing the game had only just begun.