Chapter 7 - DESPERATE MEASURES
The aftermath was a whirlwind of legal proceedings and police action, but the immediate threat was neutralized. However, one terrifying detail remained unresolved: Eli was still physically located at my mother’s sprawling estate, guarded by her private security staff who had orders not to let anyone in.
“We have the warrant, Claire,” Detective Miller said as we sped in his unmarked cruiser toward the Halcyon estate. The trees lining the winding driveway blurred past the windows. “We’re bringing your boy home.”
When we arrived at the massive iron gates of the estate, they were locked. A security guard stood behind the bars, looking nervous.
“Open the gate! Police!” Miller commanded over the cruiser's PA system.
The guard hesitated, then hit the button. The gates swung open. We sped up the long, gravel driveway, the tires throwing stones into the manicured lawns. Other police cruisers were already pulling up behind us.
We burst through the front double doors of the mansion. The house was eerily silent.
“Eli!” I screamed, running past the grand staircase and heading straight for the back wing where the nursery was. “Eli!”
I reached the nursery door and threw it open. The crib was empty.
My heart stopped. The blood roared in my ears. “He’s not here! Miller, he’s not here!”
Miller ran in behind me, his hand on his holster. He quickly scanned the room, then noticed the French doors leading out to the back patio were wide open. The curtains fluttered in the afternoon breeze.
“Outside,” Miller barked.
We ran through the French doors onto the sprawling terrace. At the far end of the property, near the edge of the large private lake, I saw a figure moving quickly. It was Marcus, my mother’s long-time personal assistant and chauffeur. He was carrying a car seat.
“Stop!” Miller yelled, drawing his weapon. “Police! Stop right there!”
Marcus froze. He looked back at us, panic etched across his face. He looked down at the car seat, then back at the heavily armed police officers sprinting toward him.
“She told me to take him to the airstrip!” Marcus cried out, dropping to his knees and raising his hands in the air. “She called from the courthouse! She said if I didn't get the baby on the private jet, I was fired! I didn't know she was arrested!”
I didn't care about Marcus. I didn't care about my mother’s insane backup plans. I sprinted across the perfectly manicured lawn, my lungs burning, until I reached the car seat resting on the grass.
I fell to my knees. There, strapped into the seat, looking confused but perfectly safe, was my beautiful baby boy. He looked up at me, his big brown eyes blinking in the sunlight, and he let out a soft, happy coo.
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I unbuckled him with shaking hands and pulled him against my chest. I buried my face in his soft hair, inhaling the sweet, powdery scent of him.
“I’ve got you,” I whispered, rocking him back and forth on the grass as the police swarmed Marcus. “Mommy’s got you. Nobody is ever going to hurt you again.”
