Chapter 3
Their rules weren't for me anymore. It was time to play by my own.
As I left the store, I took a shortcut down a narrow alley with no security cameras. A woman stepped out of the shadows, blocking my path.
"I know what you're planning," she said.
She was haggard and worn, but you could still see the ghost of her former beauty in the lines of her face.
She offered a knowing smile and held out her hand.
"My name is Marianne Brooks. I know a way. A way he pays for what he did, and we don't see the inside of a jail cell. But I need your help."
I frowned, my hand tightening on the bag with the machete. "What do you have to do with Ethan?"
She smiled, but her eyes looked distant.
"He threw my son into the river."
Two mothers, hollowed out by grief, locked eyes in that silent alley. For a few heartbeats, the world stood still. Then, we reached for each other's hands.
I had been trying to get a meeting with Jessica for weeks.
She kept refusing and even begged David to assign a patrol car to her house, crying that she was a "single mother with no man to protect her."
So, I sent her a message.
I told her if she met me just once to help me find closure, I would never harass her or her son again.
She actually agreed.
"I want one of his fingers," I blurted out.
I was blunt, no beating around the bush.
She choked on her latte, sputtering.
"Are you insane? My son has a future! He's going to go to college!"
I replied coolly, "My daughter doesn't have a future. She doesn't even have a life. One finger seems more than merciful, don't you think?"
"You're crazy! Your daughter is dead, but my son is alive! He has his whole life to live!"
She shot up from her chair, grabbing her purse.
"Dave was right about you! You belong in a mental hospital!" she spat before storming out.
My breath hitched, but I smoothed my expression before it could betray me.
Later that evening, my phone rang. It was Jessica.
She shouted, "Where is he? Where is my son? What did you do with him?"
I just smiled.
"Jessica, I was having coffee with you the entire afternoon. When would I have had time to do anything to your son?"
When Ethan was officially reported missing, I was, of course, the prime suspect.
A grieving mother is a force of nature. Her fire can burn the whole world down.
But I remained perfectly calm during the interrogation.
"I'll admit," I said, "I wanted him dead more than anything. But I never got the chance to do it myself."
They had found the receipt for the machete, the kind used for butchering.
But when they examined it, it was brand new. The luminol test came back completely negative.
"I did intend to use that knife on him," I confessed.
I sat in the interrogation room, staring at the blade, which was now sealed in an evidence bag on the table.
"I thought, if Jessica agreed to my terms, I'd use it to take his finger.
"If she refused, I was going to take his head."
I shrugged, beaming.
"But what a shame. He disappeared before I could make my move."
My alibi was ironclad.
Security footage showed me going directly home after Jessica stormed out of the coffee shop. There was no window of opportunity.
Through the glass of the interrogation room door, I could see David. His expression betrayed his suspicion. Beside him, Jessica was on the verge of complete collapse.
Meeting his gaze, I gave a small nod and smiled faintly.
He clenched his fists until his knuckles were white.
Eventually, the investigation uncovered the last known footage of Ethan. A camera from a corner store showed him walking down the street alone.
He looked pretty happy.
With no leads and no body, the police had no choice but to close the active investigation and list Ethan as a missing person.