Chapter 2 - The Bloody Message
I stared at the horrifying words written in blood until the letters started to blur together.
Jackson owes us.
My husband was a mid-level financial advisor who complained about the price of organic milk and spent his weekends watching golf.
He was not the kind of man who owed debts to people who kidnapped elderly women and left blood in kitchens.
The older officer immediately radioed for a crime scene unit and emergency medical services.
He told me I needed to take my daughter outside to the patrol car right now.
I turned away from the gruesome kitchen and hurried back toward the splintered front door.
Just as I stepped onto the porch, a familiar silver sedan came screeching into the driveway.
Jackson threw his car door open before the vehicle had even come to a complete stop.
He ran across the lawn, his tie undone and his face pale with panic.
"Emily!" he yelled, reaching out to grab both me and Mia in a desperate hug. "Are you guys okay?"
I stepped back, pulling Mia out of his immediate reach.
My heart was pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs as I looked at the man I had been married to for five years.
"Where is your mother, Jackson?" I asked, my voice deadly and calm.
He looked genuinely confused and pointed at the broken front door.
"What are you talking about, Emily?" he asked frantically. "The police called and said there was a break-in."
I did not blink as I watched his eyes dart nervously toward the younger officer standing on the porch.
"There is a massive pool of blood in your mother's kitchen," I told him coldly.
Jackson visibly staggered backward, his hands coming up to cover his mouth.
"And someone wrote a message in that blood," I continued, never breaking eye contact.
"What did it say?" he asked, his voice cracking with what sounded like real terror.
I told him exactly what the message said, watching closely for any microscopic shift in his expression.
He looked completely bewildered and vehemently denied owing anyone anything.
He begged me to believe him, swearing on Mia's life that he was just as terrified as I was.
I wanted to believe him because the alternative meant my entire life was a carefully constructed lie.
The older officer stepped out onto the porch and told Jackson he needed to answer some immediate questions.
While they spoke, I walked over to the bushes where I had dropped Mia's diaper bag in my initial panic.
I needed to find her blue sippy cup because she was crying for water.
I unzipped the main compartment and reached my hand inside the familiar insulated pocket.
My fingers brushed against something hard, metallic, and completely unfamiliar.
It was a cheap, disposable prepaid cell phone wrapped tightly in a black rubber band.
I had meticulously packed that diaper bag myself just a few hours ago, and that phone had not been there.
Suddenly, the cheap plastic device began to vibrate and ring loudly against the baby wipes.
I slowly pulled it out of the bag, my hands trembling as I stared at the flashing unknown number.
May you like
I pressed the green button and lifted the speaker to my ear without saying a word.
A distorted, mechanical voice whispered, "You really shouldn't have involved the police, Emily."
