Chapter 23 Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE~
The text message changed everything. Before, Elena had been threatening but hadn't actually done anything violent. Now, she felt betrayed, and betrayed people were dangerous.
"We need to leave town," Declan said that night. "Take the twins somewhere safe until the police find her."
"And go where?" I asked. "She found us here in our own home. She could find us anywhere."
"At least we'd be moving, not sitting here waiting for her next move," Declan argued.
"The twins are too young for that much travel," I countered. "And besides, running away didn't work before. We need to face this."
Detective Morrison agreed with me, though for different reasons. "If you leave, we lose our best chance of catching her. She's fixated on you, Anita. If you're gone, she might disappear again. But if you stay, with proper protection, she might try something and we can grab her."
"You want to use my wife as bait?" Declan asked angrily.
"I want to catch a dangerous woman before she hurts someone," Detective Morrison said. "And yes, that might mean putting Anita in a controlled situation where Elena thinks she has the upper hand."
I hated the idea of being bait. But I hated the idea of Elena out there, free to hurt us whenever she wanted, even more.
"I'll do it," I said. "But I want protection for the twins. Real protection, not just security cameras."
"Done," Detective Morrison said. "We'll assign officers to watch them twenty-four seven."
Over the next few days, they set up the plan. I would start going out alone—taking walks, going to the coffee shop, doing errands. Places where Elena might approach me. Undercover officers would be nearby at all times, ready to move in if she made contact.
"I don't like this," Declan said the night before we started. "Too many things could go wrong."
"Everything we've done, things have gone wrong," I pointed out. "At least this time we're in control."
The first few days, nothing happened. I walked through the park, went to the grocery store, sat in coffee shops reading. No sign of Elena.
"Maybe she really did leave town," Sarah suggested when she came to visit.
"Or maybe she's watching and waiting," I said.
On the fifth day, something changed.
I was at a coffee shop, sitting by the window, when a woman sat down across from me.
Not Elena. Someone else. Older, maybe sixty, with gray hair and kind eyes.
"Anita Blake?" she said.
"Yes?" I replied cautiously.
"I'm Caroline Winters. Marcus's ex-wife. I think we need to talk."
I glanced toward where I knew the undercover officer was sitting, pretending to work on a laptop. She gave me a small nod. They were ready if I needed help.
"What do you want to talk about?" I asked Caroline.
"My stepdaughter," she said. "Elena. I know what she's been doing to you and your family, and I want to help stop her."
"Why would you help us?" I asked suspiciously.
"Because Elena is sick," Caroline said sadly. "She's been sick for a long time, but Marcus refused to see it. He encouraged her obsession with him, made her feel like the world was against them. And now look what's happened."
"Do you know where she is?"
"No," Caroline admitted. "But I know how she thinks. I helped raise her, before Marcus pushed me away. She's not going to stop, Anita. Not until she feels like justice has been served."
"What does justice look like to her?"
"Your family destroyed, the way she feels hers was destroyed," Caroline said bluntly. "She wants Declan to lose everything like Marcus did. She wants you to suffer like she's suffered."
"Then how do we stop her?"
Caroline pulled out a folder. "These are Elena's medical records. She was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder when she was sixteen. She's been in and out of therapy, but Marcus always let her quit when she didn't like what the therapist said."
I looked through the records. They painted a picture of a deeply troubled young woman who'd never gotten the help she needed.
"Why are you giving me these?" I asked.
"Because if the police catch her, they need to know she's not just a criminal. She's someone who needs psychiatric help," Caroline said. "And because I think if Elena knows I'm working against her, it might shock her into making a mistake."
"That's risky for you."
"I know," Caroline said. "But I'm tired of watching people get hurt because of my ex-husband's choices. This ends now."
After Caroline left, I told Detective Morrison about the meeting.
"The medical records could be helpful in court," he said. "But they don't help us find her now."
"Caroline said Elena thinks like Marcus," I pointed out. "Marcus hid in plain sight, buying property under false names. Maybe Elena is doing the same thing?"
Detective Morrison nodded slowly. "It's worth checking. We'll pull property records for anyone with connections to the Winters family."
Two days later, they got a hit.
A small apartment had been rented three months ago under the name "Emma Watson"—Elena's mother's name was Emma, and Watson was Marcus's mother's maiden name.
"It's her," Detective Morrison said. "It has to be."
They planned a raid for that evening. Declan wanted to come, but they wouldn't let him.
"Stay with your children," Detective Morrison said. "Let us do our job."
So Declan and I sat at home, watching the twins play, waiting for news.
At 8 PM, my phone rang.
"We got her," Detective Morrison said. "Elena is in custody."
I felt like I could breathe for the first time in weeks. "Is she... did anyone get hurt?"
"No. She came quietly," he said. "Said she was tired of running."
"What happens now?"
"She'll be charged with stalking, breaking and entering, illegal surveillance, and making terroristic threats," Detective Morrison explained. "With her mental health history, she'll likely be sent to a psychiatric facility rather than prison."
"Good," I said. "She needs help, not punishment."
After I hung up, Declan pulled me into his arms.
"It's really over this time," he said. "All the Winters family drama, all the threats. It's done."
"I hope so," I said.
But I'd learned not to trust hope too easily.
The next morning, I woke up feeling lighter than I had in months. Elena was in custody. The cameras were gone from our house. We could finally start living normally.
I went to check on the twins and found their nursery door slightly open.
That was strange. I always closed it completely at night.
My heart started racing as I pushed the door open wider.
The cribs were empty.
Maya and Nathan were gone.
I screamed.
Declan came running. "What's wrong?"
"The twins," I gasped. "They're gone. Someone took them!"
We tore through the house, checking every room, every closet, every possible hiding place.
They were nowhere.
Declan called 911 while I checked the security footage.
What I saw made my blood run cold.
At 3 AM, a figure in dark clothing had entered through the front door—using a key. They'd gone straight to the nursery, picked up both sleeping babies, and walked out.
The figure's face had been covered, but something about the way they moved was familiar.
"No," I whispered. "It can't be."
But it was.
The person who took our babies wasn't Elena.
It was someone we'd trusted completely.
Someone who'd had access to our house, our security codes, our entire lives.
The video showed the person turning slightly toward a camera
, just for a moment.
And I recognized the watch they were wearing.
It was Rick's watch. The one Declan had given him for Christmas.
Rick had taken our babies.