Chapter 7 - The Isolated Cabin
My heart pounded fiercely as I stared at the psychiatric file.
The social worker was not just a random state employee handling our case.
She was my mother's younger sister, an aunt I never even knew existed.
They had orchestrated this entire nightmare together to legally kidnap my baby.
My husband grabbed his phone and called the detective who had cleared us.
He explained the horrific conspiracy and demanded immediate police intervention.
The detective promised to send units to the social worker's house right away.
We didn't wait for the police to act.
We used an old address listed in the lockbox and sped across town.
The house was a secluded, rundown cabin hidden deep in the dark woods.
My husband grabbed a heavy tire iron from the trunk of our car.
We crept up to the front porch, the eerie silence of the woods making my skin crawl.
Through the dusty front window, I saw the social worker standing in the living room.
She was holding a small, familiar bundle of blankets.
My baby was there.
But my mother was not in the room.
My husband kicked the wooden front door with all his remaining strength.
The door splintered and crashed violently inward.
We stormed into the cabin, my husband raising the tire iron defensively.
The social worker screamed and backed into a corner, clutching my baby tightly.
She yelled that we were unfit parents and that the child belonged to their bloodline's chosen path.
I demanded she hand over my child immediately.
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Before she could answer, I felt the cold, hard barrel of a shotgun press directly against the back of my head.
My mother whispered in my ear that I should have stayed in the police station.
