Chapter 7 - The Race Against Time
The terrified truck driver slammed on the gas, leaving Ryan standing furious and bleeding in the intersection.
“Please let me use your phone,” I begged the driver, my hands shaking violently as I clutched the dashboard.
He handed me his cell phone without a word, his eyes wide with fear as he sped down the highway.
I dialed 911 and frantically explained everything to the emergency dispatcher.
I told them about the psychiatric hold, the forged video, the murder of Ethan, and the immediate danger to Noah.
“Ma’am, we are dispatching units to your home address right now,” the dispatcher assured me.
I hung up the phone and prayed that the police would arrive before Linda could do the unthinkable.
I directed the driver to my suburban neighborhood, my heart pounding in my ears with every passing mile.
We pulled onto my quiet, tree-lined street just as three police cruisers rushed past us with their sirens blaring.
I jumped out of the truck before it even came to a complete stop and sprinted toward my front lawn.
The police officers had their weapons drawn, kicking open my front door with a massive, splintering crash.
I ran inside right behind them, completely ignoring their orders to stay back.
The living room was completely empty, and the heavy mahogany desk had been entirely cleared out.
“Check the nursery upstairs!” I screamed at the officers, pointing toward the staircase.
We rushed up the stairs, our footsteps echoing loudly through the silent, empty house.
The nursery door was wide open, and the crib was completely empty.
Linda and Noah were gone.
One of the officers found a handwritten note resting on the changing table.
He handed it to me, his face grim and sympathetic.
The note was written in Linda’s elegant cursive handwriting.
“I am taking my grandson to the lake house to finish his training without your constant interference.”
I felt the blood drain from my face as I realized exactly where she had gone.
The family owned a remote, isolated cabin on a deep, freezing lake three hours north of Dallas.
It was the exact same lake where Ryan’s first wife had mysteriously drowned seven years ago.
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“I know where she is,” I told the lead detective, grabbing his arm tightly.
Before we could leave the house, the front door opened, and Ryan walked calmly inside.
