Chapter 4 - THE POLICE REPORTThe police officer held up a sheet of paper.

“There's been a complaint.”

I looked at Ryan.

He wouldn't meet my eyes.

“What complaint?”

The officer answered.

“Your husband claims you threatened Vanessa.”

My stomach dropped.

“When?”

“Last night.”

“That didn't happen.”

Ryan stepped forward.

“She told Vanessa she'd hurt her.”

I stared at him.

“You're lying.”

The officer raised his hand.

“Mrs. Miller, please.”

I stopped.

Ryan had been waiting for this.

He wanted me angry.

He wanted me loud.

He wanted witnesses.

I took a breath.

“I have a recording.”

Ryan's face changed.

“A recording of what?”

“Everything from dinner.”

The officer looked at me.

“Do you have it?”

“Yes.”

I handed him the device.

He listened.

Thirty seconds.

One minute.

Two.

By the time he finished, his expression had changed.

He looked at Ryan.

“Mr. Miller, this recording does not support your complaint.”

Ryan's jaw tightened.

“There were things before that.”

“Do you have evidence?”

Ryan said nothing.

Vanessa suddenly stepped forward.

“She has been emotionally unstable for months.”

I turned toward her.

“Careful.”

Julia's warning echoed in my head.

I stopped.

The officer noticed.

“Mrs. Miller, I recommend you contact an attorney before making further statements.”

“I already have one.”

“Good.”

He handed me his card.

Then he left.

The moment the door shut, Ryan exploded.

“You think you won?”

I looked at him.

“No.”

“Then stop acting smug.”

“I don't feel smug.”

“What do you feel?”

“Done.”

I turned toward the stairs.

He followed.

“You're not taking the kids anywhere.”

I stopped.

“Watch me.”

“They're my children.”

“And mine.”

He stepped closer.

“You can't just disappear with them.”

“I can if I feel unsafe.”

He laughed.

“You're paranoid.”

I looked directly at him.

“Then why did you call my doctor?”

Silence.

He hadn't expected that.

“Who told you?”

“Answer me.”

“It was nothing.”

“Why did you ask whether I missed appointments?”

He stared at me.

Then he smiled.

“That isn't your concern.”

My blood chilled.

“It becomes my concern when you're trying to use my medical records against me.”

He said nothing.

I walked away.

I packed two suitcases.

One for me.

One for the children.

I had barely zipped the first when Sophie appeared.

“Mommy?”

“Yes?”

“Are we leaving?”

I looked at her.

“How did you know?”

“Daddy said we might have to live somewhere else.”

My chest tightened.

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

Yesterday.

Before the police complaint.

Before Vanessa came upstairs.

Everything was coordinated.

I knelt.

“Did Daddy tell you why?”

Sophie shook her head.

“He said Mommy has been sick.”

I closed my eyes.

There it was.

The story.

I wasn't merely emotional.

I was sick.

Unstable.

Unfit.

A danger.

I stood.

“Let's go.”

As we walked downstairs, Ryan was waiting.

“You're making a mistake.”

“No.”

“You're going to regret this.”

“Probably not.”

He blocked the door.

“You are not taking my son.”

Ethan grabbed my hand.

“Daddy is angry.”

I looked at Ryan.

“You're scaring them.”

He moved aside.

“Fine.”

I took the children outside.

At the curb, my phone buzzed.

A message from Julia.

DON'T GO TO YOUR PARENTS' HOUSE.

I stared.

Another message appeared.

RYAN HAS ALREADY BEEN THERE.

My heart pounded.

Then a third message.

AND HE DIDN'T GO ALONE.

I looked at Sophie.

“Where are we going, Mommy?”

I didn't answer.

Because suddenly, I realized something.

Ryan hadn't just prepared for our divorce.

He had prepared for my disappearance.

And someone else had helped him.

But who?

Then my phone rang.

The anonymous number.

I answered.

The same man's voice whispered:

“Drive to the old church on Mercer Street.”

“Why?”

“Because I have proof.”

“What proof?”

“Proof that Vanessa didn't meet Ryan by accident.”

The line went dead.

I stared at the road ahead.

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Then I turned the car.

And drove toward the church.