Chapter 12: The Hunt Begins
I barely slept that night. Every sound made me jump—the wind in the trees, a cat yowling somewhere in the distance, the old house settling. Jake had installed motion sensors around his property, and his phone buzzed every time a raccoon or possum triggered them.
"This is insane," I whispered around three in the morning, after the fourth false alarm. "We can't live like this."
"It won't be forever," Jake said, but even he sounded tired.
"You don't know David like I do. He won't stop. He'll find some way to get to us, and when he does..." I couldn't finish the sentence.
Jake pulled me closer. "Then we'll be ready for him."
The next morning brought our first real sign that David was planning something. Betty Ann called while we were having breakfast.
"That snake was at the diner last night," she said, her voice shaking with anger. "After closing time. I was in the back doing inventory when I heard someone rattling the door handles."
My stomach dropped. "Did you see him?"
"Saw his car drive away when I turned on the lights. But Lisa, honey, he left something for you."
"What?"
"An envelope. Slipped it under the door."
Jake was already reaching for his keys. "Don't touch it, Betty Ann. We're on our way."
Twenty minutes later, we stood outside the diner while Agent Martinez carefully opened the envelope with gloved hands. Inside was a single photograph—Emma playing on the swing set in Jake's backyard, taken from the tree line.
The message was clear: I can get close to her anytime I want.
"When was this taken?" Agent Martinez asked.
I studied the photo, my heart pounding. Emma was wearing the blue dress with butterflies that she'd had on yesterday morning.
"Yesterday. While we were at the police station."
"So while David was being questioned, someone else was watching Emma."
"Margaret," I said immediately. "His sister. She knows how to follow people without being noticed."
Jake's jaw tightened. "We need better security."
"We need to get Emma out of here," I said. "Jake, this is too dangerous. What if next time it's not just a photo?"
But before Jake could answer, my phone rang. Emma's school.
"Mrs. Harper? This is Carol. Emma's not feeling well. She's asking for you."
My blood went cold. "What's wrong with her?"
"She says her tummy hurts, and she's been crying. Can you come pick her up?"
I was already moving toward the car. "I'll be right there."
Jake grabbed my arm. "Lisa, what if this isn't real? What if someone's using the school to get you to leave the safety of the group?"
The thought stopped me cold. David was smart enough to fake a call from the school.
"Can you transfer me to Emma?" I asked Carol.
"Of course. Hold on."
A moment later, Emma's small voice came through the phone. "Mama? My tummy really hurts. Can you come get me?"
Relief flooded through me. It was really Emma, really sick, not some elaborate trap.
"I'll be there in ten minutes, baby girl."
But Jake insisted on coming with backup. Agent Martinez followed us to the school, and Officer Chen stayed in the parking lot while we went inside.
Emma was curled up on the nurse's cot, her face pale and her eyes red from crying. When she saw me, she reached out her arms.
"Mama, I don't feel good."
I felt her forehead—no fever, but she was definitely upset about something.
"What hurts, sweetheart?"
"My tummy. And I keep thinking about that scary man."
My heart broke. Emma wasn't physically sick; she was having an anxiety attack. The stress of yesterday had finally caught up with her.
"It's okay, baby. We're going home, and Sheriff Miller's going to make sure you're safe."
As I signed Emma out of school, the nurse pulled me aside.
"Mrs. Harper, I think Emma might benefit from talking to someone. A counselor who specializes in helping children deal with trauma."
I nodded. "I've been thinking the same thing."
"There's a woman in Atlanta—Dr. Sarah Williams. She's excellent with children who've experienced domestic violence situations."
Atlanta. Where David lived and worked, where his influence was strongest.
"Is there anyone closer?" I asked.
"I can make some calls."
On the drive home, Emma fell asleep in her car seat, exhausted from the emotional strain. Jake kept checking his mirrors, making sure we weren't being followed.
"She can't keep living like this," I said quietly. "Look at her, Jake. She's five years old and she's having panic attacks."
"I know. But running again won't solve anything. He'll just follow us to the next place."
"So what do we do?"
"We end this. Permanently."
That afternoon, while Emma napped, Jake and Agent Martinez worked on a new plan. They'd received word that David had checked out of his hotel and his whereabouts were unknown.
"He's gone underground," Martinez said. "Probably has help from his family or friends."
"What about the other women? The ones who agreed to testify?"
"Sarah Chen from Oregon flew in this morning. She's brave—braver than I expected. The others are still deciding."
"Will one witness be enough?"
"It depends on how strong her testimony is."
That evening, Sarah Chen came to Jake's house to meet with us. She was about my age, with kind eyes and a nervous smile.
"I know this is hard," she said as we sat around Jake's kitchen table. "When Agent Martinez first contacted me, my husband didn't want me to get involved. He was afraid David would come after our family."
"What changed his mind?"
"Our daughter. She's eight now, and when I told her about Emma—about a little girl whose daddy was trying to hurt her—she said I had to help." Sarah's eyes filled with tears. "She said it wasn't fair for some little girl to be scared when I could make the scary man go away."
"Out of the mouths of babes," Jake said softly.
"David is a monster," Sarah continued. "But he's a careful monster. He knows how to work the system, how to make his victims look crazy or vindictive. The only way to stop him is for all of us to speak up together."
"How many others are there?" I asked.
"That we know of? At least five, maybe more. Some are too scared to come forward, but a few are willing to try."
For the first time in days, I felt something like hope. Maybe David's greatest weapon—his ability to isolate and silence his victims—could become his downfall.
"When do we testify?"
"The hearing is set for next week. But Lisa, you need to know—David's lawyer is going to try to destroy your credibility. He's going to bring up every mistake you've ever made, every moment of weakness."
"I know."
"And he's going to try to use Emma against you. Claim you've poisoned her against her father."
The thought made me sick, but I nodded. "I understand."
"The question is: are you strong enough to face all of that?"
I thought about Emma sleeping upstairs, about the photo David had left at the diner, about three years of running and hiding.
"Yes," I said. "I'm ready to fight."