Chapter 6
The warrants were issued at noon.
For Vivian.
For Marcus.
Charges piled up fast.
Conspiracy to commit murder.
Attempted murder.
Elder abuse.
Fraud.
Embezzlement.
Violation of a restraining order.
Assault.
Breaking and entering.
17 felonies total.
Detective Carter called at 2 p.m.
They’d tracked the rental car to a small motel 3 hours west.
But when they got there, the room was empty.
Vivian and Marcus were gone again.
“They’re scared,” Detective Carter said. “They know we’re closing in. Desperate people make mistakes. We’ll catch them.”
I hoped she was right.
That night, a package arrived at the front door.
No return address.
Just my name, scrawled in messy black ink.
Dad was in the living room, watching the news.
Maria was in the kitchen, making dinner.
I carried the package to the study, closing the door behind me.
I grabbed a pair of scissors from the desk, cutting the tape.
The box was lined with newspaper.
I pulled the paper aside.
And froze.
Inside was a dead sparrow.
Its neck was broken.
Beneath it was a note, written in the same messy ink, the letters dark red.
Drop the charges.
Or you’re next.
My blood turned to ice.
I stared at the bird.
At the note.
I knew who sent it.
Marcus.
He was close.
Closer than we thought.
I pulled out my phone, calling Detective Carter.
She answered on the first ring.
“They sent a package,” I said. “A dead bird. A threat. I didn’t touch anything but the scissors. The box is still on my desk.”
“Forensics is on the way,” she said. “Don’t touch anything else. Lock the study door. Stay with your father and the nurse. We have two units on the way to patrol the perimeter.”
I hung up.
I unlocked the study door, walking to the living room.
Dad looked up.
His smile faded when he saw my face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
I didn’t want to tell him.
Didn’t want to scare him.
But he had a right to know.
“Marcus sent a package,” I said. “A threat. The police are on their way.”
His face went pale.
He stood, walking to the window, looking out at the dark lawn.
“He’s out there,” he said. “Watching us.”
Maria came in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
I told her.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
The police arrived 10 minutes later.
Forensics team in white suits.
Uniformed officers with flashlights, searching the property.
Detective Carter walked into the study, pulling on gloves.
She looked at the box.
At the bird.
At the note.
“Marcus’s MO,” she said quietly. “He did this to a guy who owed him money three years ago. Killed his dog. Left it on his porch. We never had enough evidence to charge him then. We do now.”
Forensics took the box.
The bird.
The note.
The scissors.
An hour later, Detective Carter came back to the living room.
“Good news,” she said. “We found partial prints on the box. A match to Marcus. We also found fibers on the newspaper lining. Blue denim. The same kind of jeans he was wearing the night he broke into your house. He dropped the package less than an hour ago. He’s still in the area.”
She paused.
“We’re setting up a command post down the road,” she said. “Plainclothes officers in the woods. Roadblocks on every highway out of the county. He won’t get far.”
She left.
Dad sat on the couch, his head in his hands.
“I can’t do this anymore,” he whispered. “Every time we think we’re safe, they come back. What if he hurts you? What if he hurts Maria?”
I sat beside him, taking his hand.
“We’re almost there,” I said. “They’re running out of places to hide. Out of money. Out of options. Every mistake they make brings us closer to the end. We just have to hold on a little longer.”
He looked at me.
Tears glistened in his eyes.
“I don’t know how you stay so strong,” he said.
I smiled.
“I learned from the best,” I said. “Mom. And you.”
He squeezed my hand.
Outside, the police lights flashed through the trees.
Somewhere in the dark, Marcus was watching.
Waiting.
May you like
But he was running out of time.
And I was done waiting.
