Chapter 13 - THE PERIMETER BREACH
The security technician packed his drills into his metal toolbox just as dusk began to fall.
We had spent four thousand dollars that afternoon reinforcing every lock and upgrading every camera on our property.
"You've got motion sensors along the entire tree line now, Mrs. Vance," the technician said, handing me the master key fob.
"And the feed goes straight to my phone?" I asked, my voice strained from hours of anxiety.
"Phone, cloud storage, and an instant alert to the local precinct," he confirmed with a reassuring nod.
After he left, I locked the deadbolt and slid the security chain into place.
Ryan was in the living room, sitting on the floor between Lucas and Sophie, building a fortress out of wooden blocks.
"Look, Mama!" Lucas cheered, waving a yellow block high above his head. "High tower!"
"It's beautiful, sweetie," I said, forcing the warmest smile I could muster.
I walked over to the kitchen sink, pouring a cup of chamomile tea to calm my fluttering heart.
Evelyn's estate was only a six-minute drive down the winding county backroad.
Brianna was there right now, fitted with an ankle monitor, sitting behind manicured hedges.
The thought made the tea taste like bitter ash on my tongue.
At eight o'clock, we bathed the twins and tucked them beneath their soft flannel blankets.
I lingered by Sophie's crib, smoothing her dark hair back from her forehead while she slept peacefully.
"They're safe, Nora," Ryan whispered, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind.
"I can't shake this feeling, Ryan," I murmured, leaning back against his chest. "She looked at me like she wanted to tear my throat out."
"She has an ankle monitor," Ryan reminded me gently. "The police track every step she takes within that house."
We went down to our bedroom, leaving the baby monitor glowing softly on the nightstand.
I tossed and turned for hours, listening to the wind scrape tree branches against the siding.
Sometime around two in the morning, a sharp, piercing chime echoed from the nightstand.
I bolted upright, my heart hammering violently against my ribs.
Ryan woke instantly, grabbing his phone from the charging stand.
"What is it?" I gasped, throwing the covers aside.
"The perimeter sensor at the back gate," Ryan said, his screen illuminating his pale, terrified face.
He swiped open the live camera feed overlooking our dark backyard.
The infrared night-vision camera cast the grass in eerie shades of pale green and charcoal.
Near the wooden swing set, standing completely motionless in the shadows, was a figure.
It was wearing an oversized hooded coat, the belly bulging prominently beneath the fabric.
"Oh god," I whimpered, covering my mouth with both hands. "She's here."
The figure slowly tilted its head up toward the camera lens mounted on our back porch.
Even in the grainy night vision, the hollow, manic grin on her face was unmistakably clear.
Then, the figure lifted its right hand into the camera’s frame.
Dangling from its fingers was a pair of heavy industrial bolt cutters.
Beside the cutters hung a freshly severed black strap.
May you like
Brianna had cut off her ankle monitor.
***
