Chapter 15
Clara Bell lived in a small house outside Waco.
We reached it with police before nightfall.
The front door was open.
Inside, toys covered the living room.
A bowl of cereal sat untouched on the table.
Clara was tied in the bedroom closet, alive but terrified.
“My daughter,” she sobbed. “She took Mia.”
Mia was six.
Elaine had walked in wearing a deputy’s uniform and told Clara there had been a threat connected to the trial.
Clara believed her.
Because uniforms make lies look official.
I knew that better than most.
Elaine took Mia “for protection.”
Then disappeared.
Lila knelt beside Clara.
“I’m Anna’s daughter.”
Clara stared.
Then broke into tears so violent I thought they might split her open.
“I looked for you,” Clara cried. “I was twelve when Anna died. I looked when I got older.”
Lila held her.
“I know.”
Noah watched from the doorway, pale and silent.
He had been brave for too long.
I pulled him close.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good answer.”
He looked up.
“I hate her.”
“Elaine?”
He nodded.
“I know hate is bad.”
“No,” I said. “Hate can be a smoke alarm. Just don’t build a house in it.”
He leaned into me.
At midnight, we found Elaine’s car abandoned near a private airfield.
Security footage showed her boarding a small plane with Mia.
Destination filed as Mexico.
But the pilot made one mistake.
He refueled in San Antonio.
Federal agents were waiting.
Elaine tried to walk off the plane holding Mia’s hand like a grandmother taking a child on vacation.
Mia saw Clara running across the tarmac and screamed, “Mommy!”
Elaine’s face hardened.
May you like
Then handcuffs closed around her wrists.
This time, no one let her faint.
