Chapter 5 - The Frozen Accounts
The phone almost slipped from my hand.
“That’s a lie,” I gasped. “I didn’t touch a knife. He’s lying!”
“Ma’am, the police are currently tracking your vehicle’s GPS. We advise you to pull over safely and wait for—”
I hung up.
I looked at Elena. “He called the police. He told them I had a psychotic break and took Lily at knifepoint.”
Elena turned pale. “You have to get rid of the chicken. If the police find you with a container of drugged food, and your name is on the pharmacy receipt, they will believe him. They will think you are trying to hurt Lily.”
She was right. The trap was perfectly laid.
“I need to get this tested,” I said, grabbing the Tupperware. “I need proof that he’s the one doing it.”
“My cousin works at a private toxicology lab in Fort Worth,” Elena said quickly, writing an address on a napkin. “Go there. Pay in cash. Do not use your credit cards. He will track them.”
“What about you?” I asked.
“I am going to the bus station. I am going back to Mexico tonight. I am sorry, Mrs. Sarah. I cannot testify. If Mark finds me, he will kill me.”
She stood up, pulling her coat around her. “Protect your little girl.”
She rushed out the door before I could say another word.
I scooped Lily up, left a twenty-dollar bill on the table, and hurried back to my car. I knew I couldn’t drive my SUV anymore—the police were tracking it.
I drove two blocks, parked the car behind a deserted strip mall, and unbuckled Lily.
“We’re going to take a taxi, sweetie,” I told her.
We walked to a main intersection and hailed a cab. I gave the driver the address Elena had written on the napkin.
The private lab was a small, unassuming brick building. Inside, I met Elena’s cousin, a quiet man named Mateo. I explained the situation, begging him to test the chicken immediately.
“Expedited testing costs two thousand dollars,” Mateo said sympathetically. “I need payment upfront before I break protocol.”
I reached into my bag. I had grabbed five hundred dollars in cash from my emergency drawer. I handed him my platinum debit card.
“Put the rest on this.”
Mateo swiped the card.
The machine beeped loudly.
DECLINED.
I frowned. “That’s impossible. Try it again.”
He swiped it again.
DECLINED. ACCOUNT FROZEN - FRAUD ALERT.
My blood ran cold. Mark hadn’t just called the police. He had called the bank. He had reported my cards stolen or compromised, freezing all my assets. I was entirely cut off.
“Do you have another card?” Mateo asked.
Before I could answer, the television mounted in the corner of the waiting room caught my eye. It was tuned to a local news channel.
At the bottom of the screen, a red banner flashed:
BREAKING: AMBER ALERT ISSUED FOR 4-YEAR-OLD LILY CRAWFORD. MOTHER SARAH CRAWFORD CONSIDERED ARMED AND EXPERIENCING MENTAL HEALTH CRISIS.
And there, on the screen, was a picture of me and Lily.
“Mama,” Lily said softly, pointing at the TV. “That’s us.”
Mateo looked at the screen, then down at the Tupperware container, his eyes widening.
“Ma’am,” he said, taking a step back from the counter. “I think you need to leave.”
I grabbed the Tupperware and Lily’s hand, running out of the clinic before Mateo could pick up the phone.
I was broke. I was a fugitive. And my husband was methodically closing every trap he had set.
But as I stood on the sidewalk, holding my frightened daughter, a sudden realization hit me. Mark had frozen the accounts, but he couldn't access my core trust fund without my physical signature in front of our estate lawyer.
May you like
He didn’t just want me locked up. He needed me to sign the final transfer papers first.
He had a weakness.
