Chapter 5 - The Confrontation at Crestview-5
At precisely 1:58 PM, I pulled up to the curb of the Crestview Drive apartment complex in a rental SUV. Sitting in the back seat, safely strapped into her car seat under the care of a trusted private security nurse I had hired for the afternoon, was Louisa. Her little head was covered with a soft, warm pink knit hat I had bought her that morning.
"Stay with the nurse, sweetie," I whispered, kissing her forehead gently. "Mommy will be back in a few minutes. We're going to our new home today."
"Okay, Mommy," she cooed softly, clutching her stuffed bunny.
I stepped out of the vehicle and walked up the front steps of the building. Tucked inside my dark winter coat was a high-gain micro-wire transmitting a real-time audio and video feed directly to Agent Harris’s command van parked across the street.
I unlocked the front door of the apartment with my key and stepped into the living room.
The entire family was assembled, waiting for me like a tribunal preparing to pass judgment on a prisoner.
Walter sat at the head of the dining table, a lit cigarette between his fingers, looking as arrogant and unbothered as ever. Lydia stood near the kitchen counter, her arms crossed over her chest, wearing an expression of supreme, condescending triumph. Heather was lounging on the sofa, scrolling through her phone.
And standing in the center of the room, wearing a tailored navy suit, was my husband, Elmer.
"You finally decided to show some common sense, Joanna," Elmer opened, taking a slow step toward me, his voice carrying that familiar, patronizing tone he used whenever he wanted to manipulate me. "Look at your lip. If you hadn't talked back to my father yesterday, none of this would have happened."
"Where is Louisa?" Lydia demanded, stepping forward with her chin raised. "Did you bring that ungrateful little thief back so she can apologize to me?"
I stood near the entryway, keeping my back near the door, my expression calm, passive, and entirely readable as submissive.
"Louisa is in a safe place, Lydia," I said softly. "And she didn't steal your bracelet."
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Heather let out a loud, theatrical sigh from the sofa. "Oh, here we go again. Joanna, we found the replica in her backpack! Are you calling my mother a liar?"
"I'm not calling her a liar, Heather," I replied, turning my gaze directly onto my sister-in-law. "I'm calling you the thief."
