Chapter 8
The protected address had been compromised.
That terrified the police almost as much as it terrified me.
Only a handful of people knew where we were.
Detective Bennett.
Two uniformed officers.
A victim-services coordinator.
Us.
Rachel.
And the building manager.
Someone had leaked it.
Or Linda had followed someone.
Either possibility was bad.
We were moved again.
This time police separated our transportation.
Rachel rode with an officer.
Ethan and I rode with Noah in an unmarked SUV.
No phones were allowed to remain powered on during the move.
No social media.
No contact with extended family.
We arrived at a small furnished house owned by the county in a location I wasn’t allowed to share.
Noah thought it was an adventure.
“New house!”
He ran toward a couch carrying his stuffed dinosaur.
I smiled because he needed me to.
Then I went into the bathroom and cried.
Quietly.
I locked the door and slid down against it.
I cried for Noah.
For Ethan.
For myself.
For the life we had forty-eight hours earlier when my biggest problem was whether I had remembered to buy groceries.
Then Ethan knocked softly.
“Claire?”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Neither are you.”
“Open the door.”
I did.
He sat beside me on the bathroom floor.
For a minute, we just leaned against the wall.
Then he said, “You can hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“You should.”
“That wouldn’t help.”
“I brought her into our life.”
“She was already in your life.”
“I kept her there.”
I looked at him.
He had aged in three days.
There were shadows under his eyes.
His jaw was tight constantly.
“I’m angry with you.”
“I know.”
“But I’m not leaving you.”
His eyes lifted.
“I’m not saying everything is okay.”
“I know.”
“I’m saying Linda doesn’t get to destroy our marriage just because she wants to.”
He nodded.
I continued.
“But when this is over, things change.”
“Everything changes.”
“No secret conversations with her.”
“There won’t be conversations.”
“No giving people access to our house without telling me.”
“Never again.”
“No dismissing me when I tell you someone crossed a boundary.”
“Never.”
“And therapy.”
He blinked.
“For us?”
“For you. For us. For whatever this family needs.”
He almost smiled.
“Yes.”
I leaned my head against his shoulder.
For the first time in days, I let myself feel something besides fear.
Then his phone rang from the kitchen.
The police had returned our devices after completing the move.
Rachel answered hers first.
“Detective Bennett.”
We joined her.
The detective’s voice came through speaker.
“We found David.”
Ethan grabbed the phone.
“Where?”
“At a motel outside Kenosha.”
“And Mom?”
“Not there.”
“Was she with him?”
“According to David, yes. Until last night.”
“What happened?”
“They argued.”
“About what?”
“Noah.”
My stomach tightened.
“David claims Linda told him she wanted to take Noah temporarily.”
“Temporarily?”
“He says she told him Claire was unstable and police were refusing to protect the child.”
“That’s insane.”
“Yes.”
“What did he believe?”
“Enough to help her leave Chicago.”
Rachel looked furious.
“He followed her to our protected address.”
Bennett paused.
“He denies that.”
“Then how did she find us?”
“We’re investigating.”
“What does David say happened last night?”
“He realized Linda intended to leave the country.”
My blood ran cold.
“With Noah?”
“He says that was his fear.”
Ethan paced.
“Where is she?”
“David claims he doesn’t know.”
“Do you believe him?”
“Not completely.”
“Arrest him.”
“He’s currently detained on related charges.”
“What did he say about the box?”
“Nothing useful.”
Of course.
Everyone around Linda suddenly developed memory problems when police appeared.
Bennett continued.
“David did give us something.”
“What?”
“A prepaid phone Linda left in his vehicle.”
“Can you track it?”
“We’re examining it.”
“Messages?”
“Several.”
“To whom?”
“A contact saved only as M.”
Ethan and I looked at each other.
“Madison?” I asked.
Ethan went still.
Bennett heard me.
“Who is Madison?”
So he told her.
The coworker from four years ago.
The kiss.
Linda’s secret.
Detective Bennett asked for Madison’s full name.
Ethan gave it.
Madison Blake.
She had moved to Indianapolis two years earlier.
Bennett promised to contact her.
I looked at Ethan.
“Why would your mother be messaging Madison?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you ever speak to Madison after the kiss?”
“Only at work.”
“How long?”
“Three months. Then she transferred departments.”
“And Linda knew her full name?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She asked.”
Of course she did.
Linda collected people like weapons.
Anything that might be useful later.
Two hours later, Madison called Ethan directly.
He put the call on speaker.
Her voice shook.
“Ethan?”
“Madison.”
“Police just came to my apartment.”
“We know.”
“What is happening?”
“My mother hurt Noah.”
“Oh my God.”
“She also had your number.”
Silence.
Then Madison whispered, “I know.”
I stared at the phone.
Ethan’s face changed.
“What?”
“She contacted me last year.”
My stomach dropped.
“Why?”
“She said you were unhappy.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I know.”
“What exactly did she say?”
Madison began crying.
“She asked if I still had feelings for you.”
I closed my eyes.
Linda had never stopped.
Even after four years.
“What did you tell her?” Ethan asked.
“That I was married.”
“What else?”
“That what happened between us was a mistake.”
I looked at Ethan.
He looked at me.
Madison continued.
“Your mother said Claire didn’t deserve you.”
My jaw tightened.
“She said if your marriage ever ended, I should call you.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“I told her never to contact me again.”
“Did she?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Two months ago.”
“What did she want?”
Madison hesitated.
“She asked whether I still had the messages.”
“What messages?” I asked.
Madison fell silent.
Ethan looked at me.
“Claire—”
“What messages?”
Madison spoke.
“From that night.”
My stomach twisted.
“How many?”
“Three or four.”
“From Ethan?”
“Yes.”
Ethan looked horrified.
“I didn’t send anything romantic.”
Madison answered quickly.
“No. You didn’t.”
“Then what?”
“You texted me afterward saying it could never happen again.”
I closed my eyes.
Linda wanted evidence of the kiss.
Not to expose an affair.
To create one.
“Did you give her the messages?” I asked.
“No.”
“Did you send screenshots?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Madison sounded offended.
“I wanted nothing to do with her.”
Then she added quietly, “But she already knew what they said.”
Ethan froze.
“How?”
“I assumed you showed her.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then I don’t know.”
Another secret Linda somehow possessed.
Detective Bennett obtained Madison’s records.
They showed repeated calls from prepaid numbers associated with Linda’s device.
Then something more disturbing emerged.
Linda had offered Madison money.
Twenty thousand dollars.
For what?
To sign a statement saying Ethan had continued pursuing her after their kiss.
Madison refused.
The offer increased to fifty thousand.
She still refused.
That was six weeks before the staircase incident.
“Why?” I asked Detective Bennett.
“We think Linda was building material for a possible divorce or custody dispute.”
“But why would Ethan cheating help Linda get Noah?”
“Not directly.”
“Then?”
“It could destabilize your marriage.”
Of course.
Separate us.
Turn us against each other.
Then step in as the helpful grandmother.
It was insane.
But insanity didn’t mean randomness.
Linda had a strategy.
Break the marriage.
Discredit me.
Create chaos.
Gain access to Noah.
Then the medical examiner called Detective Bennett.
Richard’s case had produced a new concern.
His stored blood samples from the hospital had been preserved.
Toxicology testing found a medication in his system.
Not enough to prove poisoning.
But enough to raise questions.
A sedative.
One Richard had never been prescribed.
Rachel started shaking.
“What does that mean?”
Bennett answered carefully.
“Sedatives can complicate cardiac symptoms in some circumstances.”
“Did Mom give it to him?”
“We don’t know.”
“Could it have killed him?”
“Possibly contributed. We need expert review.”
Ethan sat down.
I held his hand.
Then Rachel whispered, “I saw pills.”
Everyone looked at her.
“What pills?” Bennett asked.
“At Mom’s house.”
“When?”
“A few weeks before Dad died.”
“Where?”
“Kitchen cabinet. Prescription bottle.”
“Whose name?”
“I didn’t look.”
“Do you remember the label color?”
“White bottle. Blue print.”
That described half the prescriptions in America.
But then she remembered something useful.
“Mom told me they helped her sleep.”
Bennett asked, “Was Linda prescribed a sedative?”
Police checked.
Yes.
The same class found in Richard’s blood.
That didn’t prove murder.
But it destroyed the comforting story that Richard’s death had no questions around it.
That evening, another message arrived.
Not from Linda.
From an anonymous account.
A photograph.
It showed Linda standing outside a motel.
Time stamp: less than one hour earlier.
Detective Bennett traced the surrounding landmarks.
Madison, Wisconsin.
Linda was moving west.
Not north toward Canada.
West.
Why?
The answer came twenty minutes later.
Police searched the prepaid phone recovered from David.
One saved map location appeared repeatedly.
A farmhouse in Iowa.
Owned by a woman named Carol Mercer.
Ethan recognized the name immediately.
“Carol was Mom’s college roommate.”
Rachel stared.
“The one who came to our house every summer?”
“Yes.”
Carol had known Linda for more than forty years.
Police called her.
No answer.
Local deputies drove to the property.
A vehicle matching Linda’s description was parked behind the barn.
My heart pounded.
“They found her.”
Maybe.
Officers surrounded the farmhouse.
They entered.
Carol was inside.
Linda was not.
But she had been there.
Carol admitted it after nearly an hour of questioning.
Linda arrived before dawn.
Changed clothes.
Took cash.
Then left in Carol’s pickup truck.
“Where?” I demanded.
Carol claimed she didn’t know.
Police didn’t believe her.
Neither did I.
Then they searched the room where Linda had slept.
Inside a trash can, they found torn pieces of paper.
Investigators reconstructed them.
It was a printed schedule.
Noah’s daycare schedule.
And beneath Friday, someone had handwritten:
Field trip — Lincoln Park Zoo.
I stared at the image.
Friday.
Tomorrow.
Noah hadn’t attended daycare since the attack.
Linda didn’t know that.
She thought he would be on a field trip.
Surrounded by teachers.
Children.
Crowds.
A place where a grandmother might walk up and look familiar.
May you like
A place where confusion could last thirty seconds.
And thirty seconds was enough to take a child.
