Chapter 4 - THE PHOTO
James read the message once.
Then he locked the door.
"Nobody goes outside alone," he said.
Dad rushed to the window. "She's probably sitting in her car being dramatic."
James pulled the curtain aside by half an inch.
Lauren's car was gone.
"Then she took that picture and left," Dad said.
"Or someone else took it," James replied.
The way he said it made my skin prickle.
We checked the side yard, driveway camera, and porch footage. At 8:47 p.m., Lauren stormed out, threw her purse into her car, and drove away.
At 8:52, the photo arrived.
There was no clear view of whoever took it.
My mother whispered, "Maybe she scheduled the message."
James looked at her. "Maybe."
But his tone said he didn't believe in convenient maybes anymore.
We drove home with Emma strapped safely into her car seat between us. James checked the mirror every few minutes. At our house, he walked the perimeter before letting me carry Emma inside.
"James, she's awful, but she's not some criminal mastermind."
He closed the deadbolt. "People don't have to be masterminds to be dangerous. They just need access."
That word landed hard.
Access.
Lauren knew our address, schedules, daycare plans, alarm code history, spare-key habits, even which bedroom Emma slept in. She had been my sister for thirty-two years.
My phone rang.
Mom.
I answered on speaker.
"Sarah," she said quickly, "Lauren called me. She's crying. She says James threatened her."
"He told her to leave after she hit a baby."
"She says he intimidated her physically."
James closed his eyes.
Mom continued, "She says she's going to report him to his command."
My stomach dropped.
James was due back at his unit in three weeks. A complaint involving aggression toward a civilian could become a headache even if it was false.
"She won't," I said.
Mom was silent too long.
"She already did," she whispered.
Then James's phone began ringing.
May you like
He looked at the screen.
His commanding officer.
