Chapter 5 - The Hunt for Rachel
Rachel didn't return to her upscale downtown apartment that afternoon. When the police breached her door with a search warrant, they found the place stripped bare of valuables—her passport, jewelry, and laptop were gone. Her luxury SUV was located two hours later, abandoned in a long-term parking garage near the international airport.
She was on the run.
Sitting in the hospital room, watching the steady green line of Ethan’s heart monitor, I held his tiny, cool hand in mine. The doctors had begun reducing his sedation, but he hadn't opened his eyes yet. Every beep of the machine felt like a promise that I wouldn't stop until the person who did this was brought to justice.
David sat in the corner of the room, handcuffed to a chair under police guard. While he hadn't administered the poison, his involvement in fraudulent insurance schemes and financial negligence made him an accessory to the circumstances surrounding the attack. His tears meant nothing to me now; his weak character had invited a monster into our home.
Detective Miller entered the room quietly, motioning for me to step out into the corridor.
"We tracked Rachel's phone location before she dumped it," Miller said softly. "Her last ping was near a private marina thirty miles north. We believe she’s trying to catch a charter boat out of state before we border-block her name."
"Is she getting away?" Panic surged through me.
"Not if we can help it," Miller assured me. "But we need something that can link her directly to the purchase of that specific batch of Dimethoate. Do you know if she kept a secondary storage unit or private office?"
I thought back to family dinners, to offhand comments Rachel had made over the years about her luxury lifestyle. "Her lake house," I blurted out. "Her family bought a cabin near Bear Lake ten years ago. It’s not registered directly in her name—it’s under a shell company she uses for tax write-offs!"
Miller’s eyes lit up. "Give me the address."
"I’m coming with you," I said firmly, my maternal instinct transforming into pure, cold steel.
"Mrs. Hayes, that’s dangerous and against protocol—"
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"My son is lying in a coma because of her!" I snapped, my eyes locking onto Miller’s with an intensity that made the seasoned detective step back. "I know the layout of that property. I know where the hidden key is. You need me, Detective."
Miller looked at me for a long moment, seeing a mother who had nothing left to lose. He gave a single, firm nod. "Get your coat."
