PART 2
I didn’t open the door.
I stepped back, the way the detectives had told me to, and said one word loud enough for the bedroom to hear.
“Now.”
What happened next took less than a minute.
Two unmarked cars that had been parked on the street pulled up, one at each end of the building. The detectives came out of the bedroom and through my front door.
Garrett turned to run down the stairs.
There were two more officers at the bottom.
He dropped what he’d been holding behind his back.
It was a roll of duct tape. And a set of car keys to a rental van parked around the corner, with the back seats folded down.
Darcy screamed, “I didn’t know! I swear I didn’t know what he was going to do!”
The detective held up her phone.
She’d known.
Over the next two weeks, the investigation laid it all out.
Darcy had searched Emmy’s first name and my old last name online the second week she worked for me. She found an old Facebook post from Garrett’s cousin. “Anyone seen my cousin’s wife and kids? He just wants to talk to them.”
She messaged Garrett herself.
“I know where they are. How much is it worth to you?”
He sent her $2,500 over three weeks. She sent him pictures of my kids playing in the decoy apartment. A photo of my car. My work schedule.
At the same time, she was charging my 8-year-old five dollars a week to keep quiet.
The van Garrett rented was found to have a child car seat, two sleeping bags, and a map to his brother’s farm in Missouri.
Garrett was charged with violating a protective order, attempted kidnapping, and stalking. He’d also driven across state lines to do it, which made it federal.
He was sentenced to twelve years.
Darcy pleaded guilty to extortion and conspiracy. She’ll be on probation until she’s thirty-five, and she can never work with children again.
When the detective asked Emmy how she’d known to write everything down, she shrugged.
“Mommy says if something scary happens, write it down so you don’t forget it’s true.”
I had told her that once. Two years ago. On the night we left.
She remembered.
The detective returned the jar of quarters to Emmy a month later. Every coin. $41.75.
I told her she could spend it on anything she wanted. Toys. Candy. A new stuffed animal.
She thought about it for a whole day.
Then she asked me to drive her to the women’s shelter where we stayed the first week after we ran.
She walked up to the front desk on her tiptoes and set the jar down.
“This is for a kid who has to leave in the middle of the night,” she told the woman at the desk. “So they can buy a snack on the drive.”
The woman behind the desk had to step away for a minute.
So did I.
THE END.
