Chapter 7 - The Shadows in the Past
The revelation hit me like a physical blow.
If Vanessa wasn't just a disturbed stalker or a fraudulent nanny—if she had a history linked to a suspicious death in Chicago—then my family had been in far greater danger than I ever could have imagined. I hadn't just invited a toxic stepmother into my home; I had opened the front door to a potential killer.
I thanked Detective Ramirez, hung up the phone, and immediately walked out to the living room where Mrs. Gable was quietly folding laundry on the sofa while Emma played with her blocks on the rug.
"Mrs. Gable, I need to step out for a few minutes," I said, forcing a calm smile for Emma's benefit. "I have to meet Detective Ramirez at the precinct to sign some paperwork. Can you stay with Emma until I get back?"
"Of course, Daniel. Don't worry about a thing, we'll be right here with the doors locked tight," the elderly woman assured me warmly.
I crouched down beside Emma. She looked up at me with those big, solemn eyes, still clutching her stuffed rabbit.
"Daddy has to go talk to the police officer for a little while, sweetie," I told her, kissing the top of her head. "I'll be back before you know it. If you need anything, Mrs. Gable is right here."
"Okay, Daddy. Hurry back," she whispered, leaning in to give me a tight hug.
Ten minutes later, I was behind the wheel of my sedan, driving down the suburban streets toward the central police precinct. But as I pulled up to a red light a mile from my house, my phone buzzed again.
It was an incoming text from an unlisted number.
I glanced down at the glowing screen.
Looking for something, Daniel?
My heart stopped. I tapped the notification to open the message. Attached was an image file—a real-time screenshot taken from a camera feed.
It was a live feed of my living room.
On the screen, Mrs. Gable was sitting on the sofa folding laundry, and Emma was playing with her blocks on the rug. But standing in the corner of the room, half-hidden behind the heavy velvet drapes near the front window, was a figure in a dark hoodie.
A figure holding a smartphone.
May you like
Vanessa was inside my house.
She hadn't fled on Interstate 80. The crash, the car chase, the decoy vehicle—it had all been a diversion to pull the police away from my neighborhood. She had circled back.
