Chapter 4 - The Fugitive Mother
I nearly drove the speeding rental car completely off the icy road when I heard the detective's devastating words.
My own husband was intentionally framing me for a severe federal crime just to forcefully compel my return.
I forced myself to bite my lip, remain as calm as possible, and politely ended the call without answering the detective's probing questions.
I instinctively knew that if the police pulled me over now, Mitchell's incredibly wealthy family would ensure they immediately got full custody of Daisy.
I nervously pulled into the bright parking lot of a lonely, 24-hour diner situated on the very edge of town.
The flickering neon sign buzzed loudly above us as I carefully carried a now-awake and hungry Daisy inside the warm building.
We quietly sat in a secluded corner booth where I could maintain a clear, unobstructed view of the front door.
I kindly ordered a large plate of sweet pancakes for her and a pot of strong, bitter black coffee for myself.
While Daisy happily ate her late-night meal, I nervously pulled out my phone and dialed the only person on earth I could still trust.
Her name was Sarah, an old college roommate of mine who was now a fiercely independent and successful investigative journalist.
Sarah picked up the phone on the third ring, sounding understandably groggy and slightly confused by the late hour.
I quickly and tearfully explained everything chaotic that had happened to me over the terrifying last twenty-four hours.
I vividly told her about the shaved head, the brutal physical slap, the hidden camera footage, and the devastating kidnapping charge.
Sarah was completely and utterly silent for a long moment before loudly swearing into the receiver.
She immediately promised to help me fight back and instructed me to drive to a secret safe house she owned right across the state line.
Right before hanging up the phone, she curiously asked me to describe the stolen gold bracelet in precise detail.
I carefully recalled the unusually heavy weight, the intricate design, and the strange, bulky emerald clasp that Beatrice always obsessively polished.
Sarah actually gasped quietly through the phone speaker as if she had just solved a massive puzzle.
She chillingly told me that she had been secretly investigating Mitchell's mysterious corporate company for the last six months.
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That missing item was absolutely not a priceless family antique heirloom at all.
It was a highly sophisticated, custom-made physical data drive heavily encrypted with stolen corporate secrets worth millions of dollars on the black market.
