PART 10
My hands shook as I dialed Detective Mitchell’s number,
the digits familiar from months of terror.
It rang once,
twice,
three times.
"Mitchell,"
her voice came through,
sharp and professional.
"Sarah,"
I gasped,
clutching the broken bracelet in my palm,
the metal digging into my skin.
"It’s Emma."
"Someone was just here."
"They left a photo,"
"they left the bracelet."
Silence stretched over the line,
heavy and sudden.
"Emma,"
she said softly,
too softly.
"I’m not on that task force anymore."
"What?"
I whispered,
the kitchen spinning around me.
"What do you mean?"
"The case was closed,"
"Ethan pleaded guilty,"
"the assets were seized."
"But the other man,"
"the man at the school,"
"you said he wasn't alone!"
I cried out,
tears finally breaking free.
"Emma, listen to me carefully,"
she dropped her voice,
sounding rushed,
frightened.
"I was reassigned yesterday."
"Internal affairs took my files."
"They told me to drop it."
"They said it was a routine fraud ring,"
"but it isn't."
"Someone high up is pulling strings."
"Do not trust the local patrol."
"If you see them,"
"do not let them in."
The line went dead,
a harsh buzz replacing her voice.
I stared at the phone,
my sanctuary crumbling around my ears.
The detective who saved me,
the woman who broke the case,
had been silenced.
I looked up at the ceiling,
hearing Noah shift in his bed.
I couldn't stay here,
this house was a target,
a glass box.
I grabbed my keys,
my purse,
and ran upstairs to wake my son.
We needed to leave,
now,
before the rain stopped,
before the shadows moved.
As I lifted Noah into my arms,
he mumbled,
"Mommy, why are you crying?"
"We’re going on a game, sweetie,"
I lied,
wiping my face,
"a long drive."
But as we reached the stairs,
the home phone began to ring.
The caller ID showed a number I knew by heart.
May you like
The state penitentiary.
Ethan was calling me from prison.
