Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN IN THE HALLWAYDana did not remove Eli from the house that afternoon.
That fact should have relieved me.
It didn't.
Because she left with a copy of every document in the three folders.
She also left me with an instruction.
“Do not confront the reporting party.”
I almost laughed.
She must have seen the expression on my face.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I,” I said. “I know how investigations work.”
Dana studied me.
“You're a JAG.”
“Correct.”
“That means you know how to build a case.”
“I know how to prove facts.”
Her eyes softened slightly.
“Good. Then prove yours without interfering with mine.”
After she left, Eli and I stood at the window.
The porch looked empty.
But two houses down, a silver SUV sat beneath a maple tree.
I recognized it.
Monica's.
She wasn't even pretending to hide.
The driver's door opened.
Monica stepped out.
She wore sunglasses and a pale dress.
She walked toward my house slowly, as though she had every right to be there.
Eli whispered, “Is Aunt Monica coming inside?”
“Not today.”
The doorbell rang.
I opened it.
Monica removed her sunglasses.
“I heard CPS came.”
“You knew they were coming.”
She smiled.
“I heard there were concerns.”
“From whom?”
“You know how rumors work.”
“No. I know how sworn reports work.”
The smile disappeared.
Monica looked over my shoulder.
Her eyes landed on Eli.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
Eli didn't answer.
He moved behind me.
That was when I realized something.
He was afraid of her.
Not uncomfortable.
Afraid.
Monica looked at me.
“You're making this harder than it needs to be.”
“For whom?”
“For everyone.”
“I don't think you get to use the word everyone.”
She sighed.
“Rachel, you're working all day, you're raising him alone, and you act like you can do everything yourself.”
“I can.”
“You can't.”
Her voice hardened.
“Daniel would never have wanted this.”
I felt my jaw tighten.
“Don't use my husband's name.”
“I knew him too.”
“You knew him as my sister's husband.”
“He was your family.”
“You stopped being family the moment you decided to photograph my child and call CPS.”
Her face changed.
Just for a second.
A tiny flicker.
Then she recovered.
“I didn't say I made the report.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“You just avoided denying it.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You've always thought you're smarter than me.”
“No.”
I looked directly at her.
“I've always thought you were kinder than this.”
That hurt.
I knew it did.
She turned away.
But before she stepped off the porch, she looked back.
“You don't understand what's coming.”
Then she left.
I watched her walk toward the SUV.
Someone was sitting in the passenger seat.
A man.
I couldn't see his face.
The vehicle pulled away.
That night, Eli fell asleep on the couch with his head against my leg.
I sat beside him with my laptop open.
The black folder was spread across the coffee table.
I started checking every access log.
One by one.
Most came from my own devices.
Then I found something I hadn't noticed earlier.
There was one access attempt from a device identified only by a string of numbers.
I traced the timestamp.
It occurred on a Sunday morning.
At 9:13.
I had been home.
I remembered that day.
Eli had been sick.
I had taken him to a pharmacy.
The strange access occurred while we were gone.
I checked another.
Then another.
Fourteen.
All from the same unidentified device.
But there was one detail that made my stomach twist.
The device had logged in through the password recovery function.
Which meant whoever used it knew enough about me to answer my security questions.
My mother's maiden name.
The name of my first dog.
The street where I grew up.
Information strangers wouldn't know.
Information family would.
I locked the laptop.
Then I heard a sound.
A soft scrape outside.
I walked to the front window.
Nothing.
I checked the security camera.
The image loaded.
The driveway was empty.
Then, three seconds later, a figure appeared at the edge of the frame.
Not Monica.
A man.
Dark baseball cap.
Gray hoodie.
Standing beneath my porch light.
He looked directly into the camera.
Then he raised his phone.
A flash.
He had photographed the house.
I backed away from the window.
My heart hammered.
The man turned and walked toward the street.
I replayed the footage.
Stopped.
Zoomed.
There was something in his right hand.
A key fob.
A military parking tag.
I couldn't read the lettering.
But I could see the final three digits.
They were familiar.
They belonged to a vehicle I'd seen before.
I checked Monica's social media.
Nothing.
Then I checked her husband's.
Caleb.
His profile was nearly empty.
One photograph caught my eye.
A barbecue from six months earlier.
Caleb stood beside a silver SUV.
And hanging from his key ring was the same military parking tag.
I zoomed in.
My blood went cold.
The numbers matched.
Caleb had been outside my house.
He had photographed my home.
And he had never told Monica I knew.
I called Dana.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“What happened?”
I told her.
She was silent for a moment.
Then she said, “Don't call your sister.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Good.”
“Can you look into the vehicle?”
“I can document your report.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
“I know.”
Her voice sharpened.
“Rachel, listen to me. You are emotionally involved now.”
“I’m his mother.”
“You're also the subject of an investigation.”
I closed my eyes.
Then I heard something outside.
Three knocks.
Not on the front door.
On the kitchen window.
I turned.
Eli was still asleep.
I walked toward the glass.
Nothing.
Then I saw a small white envelope beneath the window.
I opened the door.
The envelope was addressed to me.
No stamp.
No name.
Just one sentence written across the front.
YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT THE PAST ALONE.
Inside was a photograph.
Not of Eli.
Of me.
May you like
Walking into the JAG office three weeks earlier.
Someone had been watching me long before CPS arrived.
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