But I didn’t feel amazing. I felt terrified. Every strange noise in the night made me jump. Every car that drove slowly past my house made me nervous.
Cynthia was still out there. Somewhere. And even though the police said she had probably fled the country, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was close. Watching. Waiting.
I installed new locks on all the doors. Security cameras on the porch. An alarm connected directly to the police. I spent another $800 I didn’t have, but Hector’s safety was priceless.
One night, three weeks after bringing him home, I found something. I was organizing Louis’s things that I had stored in boxes. His clothes. His books. His papers.
At the bottom of a box, I found a journal. Brown leather. Worn. I didn’t know Louis kept a journal.
I opened it with trembling hands. The first few pages were from years ago. Thoughts about his job. About his friends. Nothing important.
But then I got to the entries from the last year. From the year he knew Cynthia.
«Met someone today,» an entry from four years ago read. «Her name is Cynthia. She’s beautiful. Smart. Mysterious. There’s something about her I can’t figure out. She intrigues me.»
I kept reading. The entries about Cynthia became more and more frequent. Louis was in love. Completely captivated. But there were also doubts.
«Sometimes I feel like I don’t really know her. She never talks about her family. When I ask, she changes the subject. It’s like her life started the day we met.»
Another entry. «I found Cynthia going through my bank statements. She said she was just curious. But something felt wrong. Why would she look at that without asking first?»
And then the one that chilled my blood, dated a month before his death.
«Cynthia is pregnant. I found the test. But when I confronted her, she got furious. She said she doesn’t want it. That it will ruin her life. How can she say that? It’s our child.»
«I changed my will today. Everything will go to the baby. I don’t trust Cynthia with money. Not after seeing how she spends. The $500 shoes. The $1000 purses. She always wants more. But a baby isn’t an accessory. It’s a life. And I’m going to protect it no matter the cost.»
Tears fell on the pages, smudging the ink. Lewis knew. He knew something was wrong with Cynthia. He knew that money was the only thing she cared about. And he had taken steps to protect his son. Steps that cost him his life.
The last entry was from the day he died.
«Cynthia threatened me today. She said I would regret pressuring her about the baby. I don’t know what that means, but it scares me. I’m going to talk to mom tomorrow. Tell her everything. Maybe she can help me figure out what to do. I just know I can’t let Cynthia hurt our child. I will protect him. Always.»
He never got the chance to talk to me. He died that night. And I never knew he needed help. That he was scared. That he had seen the danger coming, but not fast enough.
«I’m sorry,» I whispered to the journal. «I’m so sorry, my love. I should have noticed. I should have seen something was wrong.»
But I couldn’t change the past. I could only protect the future.
I took the journal to Fatima the next day. She read the whole thing. Her jaw tightened with every page.
«This is crucial evidence,» she said. «It shows premeditation. It shows motive. When we find Cynthia, this will bury her.»
«When will you find her?» I asked. «It’s been almost two months.»
Fatima sighed. «We’re doing everything we can. But she’s smart. She probably used fake documents to leave the country. She could be anywhere.»
But three days later, everything changed. I was feeding Hector when my phone rang. It was an unknown number. I usually didn’t answer, but something made me pick up.
«Hello?» I said.
Silence. Breathing. Then a voice I recognized immediately. «Betty.»
Cynthia. My blood ran cold. I almost dropped Hector. I looked around the room as if she could be hiding in the shadows.
«Where are you?» I managed to say.
«It doesn’t matter where I am. What matters is, I have something you want. And you have something I want.»
«You have nothing I want.»
«I have the truth. About what really happened to Louis. About why I did what I did. I bet you want to know.»
«I already know the truth. I read Louis’ journal. I know you killed him for money. I know you’re a monster.»
A cold laugh. Humorless. «A monster? How dramatic. You don’t know anything, Betty. Louis wasn’t the saint you think he was.»
«Don’t you dare,» I roared. «Don’t you dare speak ill of my son.»
«Okay. You’re going to call the police. Go ahead. By the time they trace this call, I’ll be long gone. I use burner phones. I’m not stupid.»
My mind was racing. I had to keep her talking. I had to record this somehow. I put the phone on speaker. I fumbled for my cell phone with my free hand. I started recording.
«What do you want, Cynthia?»
«I want my son.»
«Your son? You tried to drown him.»
«It was a mistake. A moment of insanity. I was scared. Confused. I had just given birth alone. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I’m better now. I want my baby back.»
«Never. I’d die first.»
«That can be arranged,» she said with chilling calmness. «Listen carefully. I want Hector. And I want the money from Louis’ will. The $200,000 from the insurance plus everything Louis left in a trust for the baby. That’s another $300,000.»
$500,000. Everything Louis had worked for. Everything he had saved. All meant for his son.
«And if I refuse?»
«Then I’ll come for him. I’m his biological mother. Legally, I have more rights than you. And when they finally catch me, I’m going to say you stole my baby. That you threatened me. That you made up the whole story about the lake to keep him. My word against yours. And I’m much younger. More believable. More sympathetic.»
I felt sick. But I kept recording. «How do I know you won’t kill us both and take everything anyway?»
«You don’t. But it’s your only choice. Bring the baby and the money to the old warehouse by the lake. You know the one. Where you and Louis used to fish. Tomorrow at midnight. Alone. If I see any cops, I disappear. And you’ll never see me again. And eventually, I’ll find a way to take Hector from you anyway.»
«Cynthia, wait.»
But the line was already dead.
I stood there trembling with Hector in one arm and the phone in the other. I had the recording. I had evidence that Cynthia was alive. That she had threatened me.
I called Fatima immediately. I sent her the audio.
«Perfect,» she said. «This is exactly what we needed. Now we’re going to set a trap. You’re going to go to that meeting. But we’ll be there. Hidden. Waiting. And when she shows up, we’ll get her.»
«What if something goes wrong? What if she sees me with police and runs again?»
«She won’t see us. I promise you. I’ll have snipers in position. Teams in the shadows. She’s not getting away this time.»
«And Hector?»
«Hector stays with Eloise. In a safe place. You’re not taking him. You’re just going to pretend you brought him.»
I nodded, though she couldn’t see me. One more day. I just had to survive one more day. And then Cynthia would finally face justice. For Louis. For Hector. For all the pain she had caused.
I didn’t sleep that night. I stayed awake watching Hector sleep. Memorizing every detail of his face. Just in case. In case something went wrong. In case I never saw him again.
«Your daddy loved you,» I whispered to him. «And I love you. And tomorrow, we’re going to make sure you’re safe. Forever.»
The next day passed in slow motion. Every minute felt like an hour. Every hour, like an eternity.
At nine in the morning, Eloise came for Hector. I packed his bag as if he were going away for a week. Though I hoped to have him back in hours. Diapers. Formula. Extra clothes. His favorite blanket.
My hands trembled as I put each item in the bag.
«He’ll be perfectly fine with me,» Eloise said, taking Hector in her arms. «I have your number. The police have my address. No one is going to touch him. I promise.»
I kissed her on the forehead. Then I kissed Hector. His soft skin smelled of baby lotion and hope. «I love you, little one,» I whispered. «Grandma will be back soon.»
I watched them leave. Eloise’s car disappeared down the street and I felt like a piece of my soul was being torn away. But it was necessary. Hector had to be far away. Safe. Just in case things went wrong.
Fatima arrived at two in the afternoon with three other officers. Two men and a woman. All in plain clothes. All armed.
They turned my living room into a command center. Laptops. Radios. Maps of the area around the warehouse.
«Let’s go over the plan again,» Fatima said, spreading a map on my dining table. «The warehouse is here. Abandoned for five years. It has three entrances. Main, side, and rear. We’ll have teams covering all three.»
«You enter through the main entrance at midnight exactly.» She pointed to spots on the map with a red marker. «Snipers here and here. On the roofs of the adjacent buildings. They’ll have a clear view of the interior through the broken windows. Assault teams here in the back. Ready to move in the moment we have visual confirmation of Cynthia.»
«And what exactly do I do?» I asked. My voice sounded calmer than I felt.
«You go in. You talk to her. You keep her talking. We need her to confess. To admit she killed Louis. That she tried to kill Hector. You’ll be wearing a wire. We’ll record everything.»
One of the officers, a tall man in his thirties, pulled out a small device the size of a button. «This goes on your clothes. Right here.» He pointed just below my collar.
«It transmits everything in real time. It also has a panic button. If you press this three times in a row, we move in immediately, no matter what.»
He showed me how it worked. I practiced pressing it. Three quick taps. My life would depend on remembering that.
«What if she asks to see the baby?»
«You tell her he’s in the car. That you want to talk first. That you want to understand why she did what she did. Appeal to her ego. People like Cynthia love to talk about themselves. Let her brag about how smart she was.»
We spent the next few hours going over every detail. Every possible scenario. What to do if Cynthia was armed. What to do if she wasn’t alone. What to do if something went wrong. My head was spinning with information.
At eight, they made me eat. A ham sandwich that tasted like cardboard. But I swallowed every bite. I needed energy. I needed to be alert.
At ten, they put the wire on me. They tested the audio over and over. They had me say phrases. Count to ten. Yell. Whisper. Making sure everything worked perfectly.
«Remember,» Fatima said, looking me straight in the eye. «You are not alone in there. I’ll be listening to every word. The team will be yards away. At the slightest sign of real danger, we’re coming in. I won’t let anything happen to you.»
I nodded. I wanted to believe her. But fear was a cold snake coiled in my stomach.
At eleven-fifteen, we moved out. I drove my own car. Fatima was in the passenger seat, ducked down so she couldn’t be seen from outside.
«The other teams are already in position,» she informed me over the radio. «Snipers in position. Rear team ready. Perimeter secured.»
We arrived at the warehouse at eleven-forty. It was exactly as I remembered it. Old, decrepit, broken windows, graffiti-covered walls.
Louie and I used to come here when he was a boy. We would fish off the pier behind it. Simpler times. Happier times.
Fatima got out of the car in a blind spot from Cynthia’s imaginary cameras. She disappeared into the shadows. I was alone.
I looked at the clock. Eleven-fifty-five. Five minutes.
I closed my eyes. I thought of Louis. Of his smile. Of how he called me «mom» in that affectionate tone. Of what it would have been like to see him as a father.
I thought of Hector. Of his future. Of all the things he deserved to have. A life without fear. Without threats. Without shadows.
Midnight. My phone vibrated. A text from an unknown number. «Come in. Alone. Now.»
I got out of the car. The night air was cold. I could see my breath. I walked toward the main door of the warehouse. Every step sounded too loud in the silence.
The door was ajar. I pushed it. It creaked. The sound echoed off the empty walls.
Inside it was dark. Almost completely black. Only a little moonlight came through the broken windows, creating strange shadows.
«Cynthia,» I called out. My voice sounded small. Scared.
«Close the door,» a voice said from the shadows. Cynthia’s voice.
I closed the door. My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. And then I saw her. Standing in the center of the warehouse.