Silent Neighbor (Sheila Stone #9)

CHAPTER NINE

"What's up, adrenaline junkies? ThrillSeeker23 here, coming at you live from the edge of Razorback Ridge!"

Brad Blackwell's voice boomed with manufactured enthusiasm as he held his camera at arm's length, the vast expanse of Utah's red rock canyons stretching out behind him. "We've just taken on one of the most challenging climbs in the Southwest. Hardly broke a sweat—well, that's not true. I'm drenched."

Brad laughed at his own joke, flashing his trademark grin—the one that had earned him millions of followers across various social media platforms. He continued his monologue, peppering it with the catchphrases and inside jokes his fans had come to expect.

"That'll be it for today. Remember, guys, life's too short for the ordinary. So get out there and seek those thrills! ThrillSeeker23, signing off!"

With a final wink at the camera, Brad ended the recording. The moment the red light blinked off, the smile vanished from his face, replaced by a weary expression that aged him beyond his twenty-eight years. He lowered the camera, his shoulders sagging as if a great weight had settled upon them.

The truth was, Brad felt hollow. Empty. It was a feeling that had been growing for months now, gnawing at him from the inside even as his online popularity soared to new heights.

Sighing heavily, Brad found a flat rock to sit on, his eyes scanning the breathtaking landscape before him. The late afternoon sun painted the sandstone cliffs in vibrant shades of orange and red, long shadows stretching across the rugged terrain. In the distance, a hawk soared on thermal currents, its cry echoing faintly across the vast expanse.

It was beautiful. Awe-inspiring. And Brad felt absolutely nothing.

He should have been exhilarated, riding the high of another successful climb. Instead, he felt more alone than ever. His millions of followers might as well have been on another planet for all the genuine connection he felt with them.

How had he gotten here?

Brad's mind drifted back to his college days, when he'd been a bright-eyed journalism major with dreams of becoming a hard-hitting investigative reporter. But the landscape of traditional media had been shifting rapidly, and upon graduation, Brad found himself struggling to land even entry-level positions.

It was during this period of frustration and self-doubt that he'd stumbled into the world of extreme sports. A friend had invited him on a weekend climbing trip, and something about the rush, the danger, the sheer physicality of it had awakened something in Brad. For the first time in months, he'd felt truly alive.

He'd started documenting his adventures, at first just for fun. But as his skills improved and his stunts became more daring, he began to attract an online following. ThrillSeeker23 was born—an online persona that was everything Brad Blackwell wasn't in real life: confident, carefree, always up for the next big challenge.

The transition hadn't happened overnight. It had been a gradual process, each video pushing the boundaries a little further, each stunt a little more dangerous than the last.

And somewhere along the way, Brad had lost himself in the character he'd created.

Now, sitting alone on the edge of a cliff, Brad couldn't remember the last time he'd done something just for the joy of it, without considering how it would play on camera. He couldn't recall the last genuine conversation he'd had that wasn't with a fan or a sponsor.

The realization hit him like a physical blow: he had millions of followers, but not a single real friend.

A glance at his watch—one of the few things his father had ever given him—jolted Brad out of his gloomy reverie. It would be dark in a few hours, and he needed to start his descent if he wanted to make it back to his car before nightfall. With a groan, he pushed himself to his feet and began the long trek down, following a trail that wound gradually down the steep incline. The path was narrow, forcing him to press himself against the wall now and then to let others pass. The drop on the other side was several hundred feet—easily far enough to be fatal.

As he hiked, Brad's thoughts turned to his father. Robert Blackwell had been a constant source of disappointment throughout Brad's childhood, his drinking problem casting a long shadow over the family. There had been missed Little League games, embarrassing scenes at school events, and too many broken promises to count.

But recently, something had changed. Robert had reached out, saying he was six months sober and wanting to make amends. Brad had been skeptical, keeping his father at arm's length. After all, he'd heard promises of change before, only to be let down again and again.

And yet... as Brad carefully navigated a particularly tricky section of the trail, he couldn't help but think about the fragility of life. How many times in his videos had he joked about the dangers of his stunts? But the truth was, every time he set out on one of these adventures, there was a real chance he might not come back.

What if something happened to him? Or to his dad? How many more opportunities would they have to repair their relationship?

The thought struck Brad with unexpected force. Before he could talk himself out of it, he pulled out his phone and dialed his father's number. It went to voicemail, and Brad felt a lump form in his throat as he heard his dad's gruff voice asking him to leave a message.

"Hey, Dad," Brad said, trying to keep his voice casual even as emotions he'd long suppressed threatened to overwhelm him. "It's me. Brad. I, uh... I'm just calling to say hi, I guess. And to let you know I've been thinking about what you said. About wanting to talk. Maybe we could grab a coffee sometime? Anyway, give me a call back when you can. I... I love you, Dad."

Brad ended the call, feeling simultaneously lighter and more vulnerable than he had in years. He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice the other hiker until it was too late. They collided, and Brad's phone slipped from his grasp, skittering dangerously close to the edge of the cliff.

"Oh, shit!" Brad exclaimed, lunging for the phone. He stretched out, trying to reach it, but it was just beyond his grasp. He leaned further, acutely aware of the yawning chasm beneath him.

"Hey, be careful!" the other hiker said, alarm evident in his voice. "Here, let me help."

Brad glanced back, seeing a man in his forties with salt-and-pepper hair and the lean, muscular build of an experienced climber. "Thanks," Brad said, his heart racing. "I can almost reach it."

The stranger moved closer, offering his hand for support. Brad took it gratefully, leaning out just a bit further. His fingers brushed the edge of his phone. Just a little more...

Suddenly, Brad felt a powerful shove from behind. For a split second, he was airborne, suspended between earth and sky. Then gravity took hold, and he was falling.

As the ground rushed up to meet him, a kaleidoscope of images flashed through Brad's mind: his father's face, etched with regret and hope; the millions of fans he'd never truly known; the persona he'd created that had ultimately left him feeling more alone than ever.

The last thing Brad saw before everything went black was the stranger peering over the edge of the cliff, a look of grim satisfaction on his face. Then Brad's world exploded into pain, and he knew no more.