Chapter 9
Claire froze, her heart hammering a frantic, terrifying rhythm against her ribs. She moved silently toward the window, pressing her back against the cheap motel wallpaper, and carefully peeled back the edge of the curtain just a fraction of an inch.
Outside, the bright, harsh headlights of a black luxury SUV were cutting through the darkness of the parking lot. The engine hummed with a low, powerful growl before being shut off.
It was a Whitmore family vehicle.
"How did they find me?" Claire panicked, her mind racing. She hadn't used a joint credit card. She had turned off the location services on her phone.
Then she remembered the SUV she was driving. It was registered under Daniel's name, equipped with a standard GPS anti-theft tracker. Margaret hadn't needed to call the police; she had just checked the vehicle's location ping.
Claire dropped the curtain and sprinted quietly to the desk. She grabbed the heavy DNA envelope, stuffing it deep into her leather bag. She looked around the room for a weapon, her eyes landing on a heavy brass lamp on the nightstand. She grabbed it, wrapping the cord tightly around her hand, ready to defend her daughter with her life.
Footsteps crunched heavily on the gravel outside. Someone was approaching the door.
Claire positioned herself behind the door frame, her muscles coiled tight, the rosy color drained completely from her face.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound was sharp and deliberate.
"Claire," a voice called out through the thin wood. "It's Jessica. Open the door."
Claire’s breath hitched. Jessica? Mark's wife? The woman who had stood completely silent inside the house while Lily was chained outside?
"Go away, Jessica!" Claire shouted through the door, keeping her grip tight on the brass lamp. "I have already called the police. If you try to come in here, they will arrest you!"
"I am alone, Claire," Jessica’s voice replied, sounding remarkably calm, almost urgent. "I didn't tell Margaret or Daniel where you were. I accessed the car's tracker myself. You need to let me in. We don't have much time."
Claire hesitated. Why would Jessica come alone? The two women had never been close. Jessica was always the perfect, obedient Whitmore wife, attending the parties, wearing the expensive dresses, and never speaking out against Margaret's cruelty.
"Why should I trust you?" Claire demanded.
"Because I know what's on the second page of that DNA test," Jessica said softly through the door.
Claire’s eyes widened in absolute shock. How could Jessica possibly know that?
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Carefully, keeping the chain lock engaged, Claire turned the deadbolt and cracked the door open a few inches. Jessica stood under the flickering motel light, her beautiful party dress hidden beneath a long, dark trench coat. Her fair skin looked pale, but her eyes held a fierce, determined intelligence Claire had never seen in her before.
"Let me in, Claire," Jessica whispered, looking over her shoulder at the empty parking lot. "I am here to help you destroy her."
