Part 15
The next morning, we didn't send Chloe to daycare. We couldn't. The thought of letting her out of our sight felt like leaving her exposed to a predator. Ethan took a leave of absence from work, and we spent the day installing a state-of-the-art security system around the perimeter of the house—cameras, motion sensors, and reinforced locks.
Marcus arrived in the afternoon, carrying a thick manila folder. His expression was grim as he sat down at our kitchen table.
"I ran the records on Madison," Marcus began, opening the folder. "Your mother wasn't entirely lying in her letter, Emily. Madison was in a violent prison fight a year ago. She suffered severe spinal trauma and spent months in the infirmary. But she wasn't permanently paralyzed. She underwent intensive physical therapy. Three months ago, she was granted an early compassionate parole due to overcrowding and her medical status. Your mother signed as her sponsor."
"Where are they staying?" I asked, my hands tightly wrapped around a mug of tea I hadn't touched.
"That's the thing," Marcus said. "Your mother passed away two weeks ago. The letter she sent you was her last-ditch effort to get money from you before she died. When she passed, Madison inherited what little money was left from a small life insurance policy. She skipped her parole meetings in Colorado, rented a car, and disappeared. The police are looking for her for a parole violation, but she’s off the grid."
"Until now," Ethan added, his arm around my shoulders.
"Exactly," Marcus nodded. "She used that insurance money to track you down. It’s not hard if you know the right shady people on the dark web. She’s been in town for at least four days. I tracked the rental car to a cheap motel on the outskirts of town, near the highway. But when I went by there this morning, the car was gone. She checked out."
I felt a cold dread settle deep into my bones. She was mobile, she was angry, and she had absolutely nothing left to lose. Her father was dead, her mother was dead, her health was compromised, and she blamed me for every single bit of it. In her twisted, narcissistic mind, I was the villain who had destroyed the family by exposing their abuse.
"What do we do, Marcus?" Ethan asked. "Can we get the local police involved?"
"I already talked to a contact at the local precinct," Marcus said. "Since she’s a fugitive from another state, they’ve issued a local warrant to pick her up. But until they find her, you need to be hyper-vigilant. She’s unstable, Emily. Her psychological profile from the prison describes her as highly manipulative, vindictive, and prone to explosive fits of rage when she loses control."
As if on cue, the absolute silence of the afternoon was shattered by a loud, cheerful voice from the living room.
"Mommy! Look what the pretty lady gave me through the window!"
My heart stopped. I bolted out of my chair, Ethan right on my heels. We sprinted into the living room. Chloe was standing by the large bay window that looked out into the front yard. The window was locked, but the glass was clear.
In Chloe's hand was a small, red lollipop.
I looked through the glass. Standing at the edge of our driveway, partially obscured by the shadow of a large pine tree, was a woman. She was wearing a tattered gray winter coat, leaning heavily on a wooden cane. Her face was gaunt, her skin pale and drawn, but her eyes—those dark, malicious eyes—were unmistakable.
May you like
Madison.
She looked directly at me through the glass. Slowly, deliberately, she raised her hand and blew a kiss toward Chloe. Then, she flashed a wide, terrifying smile that showed her yellowing teeth, turned on her good leg, and began to limp away down the snow-covered sidewalk.
