Chapter 3 - The Other Girl
“Who is she?”
Emily sat at my kitchen table staring at the photograph.
Her hands trembled.
“Her name is Natalie.”
I waited.
Emily swallowed.
“She dated Dustin before me.”
That alone explained nothing.
The fear in Emily’s face explained plenty.
Natalie Brooks had disappeared from Dustin’s life eighteen months earlier.
Dustin told everyone she had moved to Arizona.
Emily had believed him.
Then, several months into their relationship, she found Natalie’s name in Dustin’s blocked contacts.
Messages remained in an old cloud backup.
Most were arguments.
Some were apologies.
One was different.
If you ever touch me again, I’m going to the police.
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I asked Dustin.”
“And?”
“He said Natalie was unstable.”
Of course he did.
The pattern was becoming painfully clear.
Every woman who challenged him became “crazy.”
Every injury became an accident.
Every witness misunderstood.
Every accusation threatened his career.
Emily had wanted to believe him because believing him meant admitting she was living beside someone dangerous.
I understood that.
People often imagine courage as the moment someone fights back.
Sometimes courage is simply admitting the person you loved was never who you thought they were.
We gave Natalie’s name to detectives.
By noon, they located her.
Not Arizona.
She lived less than eighty miles away.
And she agreed to speak.
Natalie arrived at the station wearing a business suit and carrying a folder.
She looked at Emily for a long moment.
Then hugged her.
Emily broke down.
“I’m sorry.”
Natalie whispered, “You have nothing to apologize for.”
Her story resembled Emily’s almost exactly.
Control first.
Isolation.
Humiliation.
Then violence.
The final incident had put Natalie in urgent care.
She had tried to report Dustin.
Then Shane Voss appeared.
He told her Dustin’s career would be destroyed.
He threatened to release private photographs.
He implied her employer would receive damaging accusations.
Natalie became frightened and withdrew.
“I thought leaving was enough,” she said.
Emily wiped her eyes.
“It wasn't.”
“No.”
Natalie opened her folder.
“I kept everything.”
Messages.
Photographs.
Medical records.
Emails from Shane.
The detective looked increasingly interested.
So did I.
Dustin’s problem was no longer one accusation.
It was a pattern.
Shane’s problem was worse.
He had apparently helped conceal it.
But the payments remained unexplained.
Natalie provided the next piece.
Dustin and Shane had been pressuring inexperienced fighters into paying unofficial “career fees.”
Promised fights.
Promised sponsorships.
Promised connections.
Some fighters paid thousands.
Others were threatened when they demanded refunds.
Rachel’s missing gym money suggested the scheme had grown.
Marcus and Tyler began contacting former members.
Within forty-eight hours, six people agreed to speak to investigators.
I did almost nothing.
That was intentional.
My job wasn't to become a vigilante.
My job was to keep Emily safe while people trained for investigations did their jobs.
Still, someone continued watching us.
A black SUV appeared near my house twice.
The police documented it.
Then it disappeared.
Dustin was released pending further proceedings under strict conditions.
He was ordered not to contact Emily.
His lawyer issued a statement claiming the footage had been misinterpreted.
That afternoon, Dustin posted a carefully worded video online.
He never named Emily.
He didn't need to.
He described himself as the victim of a “personal dispute being weaponized by people seeking attention.”
Comments exploded.
Some supported him.
Some attacked Emily without knowing her name.
She read them until I took the phone from her.
“You can't fight strangers on the internet.”
“They think I lied.”
“Some do.”
“What if everyone does?”
I sat beside her.
“You don't need everyone.”
She looked at me.
“You need the truth, evidence, and enough courage to keep going.”
She smiled faintly.
“That sounds like something you'd tell Marines.”
“It is.”
“Did it work?”
“Occasionally.”
That evening, Marcus called.
He wanted to meet.
We chose a diner.
Public.
Cameras everywhere.
Marcus arrived carrying an old gym bag.
“I should have done this Tuesday.”
He placed the bag on the table.
Inside were notebooks.
Dustin’s notebooks.
Training schedules.
Payments.
Names.
Numbers.
Marcus had found them months earlier after Dustin left the bag in his truck.
He had taken photographs because something felt wrong.
Then he did nothing.
“I was afraid he'd destroy my career.”
Emily looked at him.
“You were afraid.”
“Yes.”
“So was I.”
Marcus lowered his eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
Emily nodded.
“I believe you.”
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But recognition.
Marcus gave the evidence to detectives.
Three days later, Shane Voss was arrested.
Fraud allegations followed.
Witness tampering.
Evidence destruction.
The case expanded rapidly.
Dustin’s sponsors suspended him.
His upcoming fight was canceled.
The gym investors removed him from operations.
Rachel became acting manager.
For the first time, Emily seemed able to breathe.
Then my phone rang.
Natalie.
She sounded terrified.
“Jack, somebody broke into my apartment.”
“Are you safe?”
“Yes. Police are here.”
“What was taken?”
“Nothing.”
That made no sense.
Then she said:
“They left something.”
A photograph.
Old.
Dustin, Shane, and several fighters standing outside another gym.
One face had been scratched out.
Natalie had recognized him.
A former fighter named Cole Brennan.
He had accused Shane of stealing money two years earlier.
Then he vanished from the regional MMA scene.
“Where is he now?” I asked.
Natalie whispered, “Nobody knows.”
My phone beeped.
Incoming image.
She sent me the photograph.
I enlarged it.
There was writing beneath Cole’s scratched-out face.
A date.
And an address.
Marcus, standing beside me, saw it.
His expression changed instantly.
“I know that address.”
“Where is it?”
He looked at me.
“Dustin’s old training warehouse.”
Then Emily walked into the room carrying her laptop.
She looked frightened.
“Dad, somebody just emailed me.”
“Who?”
She turned the screen toward us.
The subject contained only three words:
I SAW EVERYTHING.
May you like
There was an attachment.
And the sender’s name was Cole Brennan.
