The detective requested that we stop blocking Sheila’s numbers.
“We need her to keep talking.”
“What if she comes here?”
“We’ll be ready.”
For nearly a week, nothing happened.
Then another message arrived.
“She’s beautiful.”
A picture followed.
It showed our daughter sleeping in her bassinet.
I screamed.
Leon nearly dropped his coffee.
The picture had been taken through the nursery window.
Not today.
Three nights earlier.
Before we’d closed the curtains.
The detective enlarged the image.
A reflection appeared in the glass.
A woman standing outside beneath the maple tree.
Too blurry to identify.
But enough to prove she had been on our property.
The police installed temporary surveillance around our home.
The detective believed Sheila was escalating.
“I don’t think she’s finished.”
Neither did I.
Two weeks later, Martha called.
“Annalise?”
She sounded shaken.
“I think I made another mistake.”
“What happened?”
“I got a message from Grace before the account disappeared.”
“What did it say?”
Martha’s voice cracked.
“She asked if the baby was being christened.”
My heart sank. We had planned a small naming ceremony at church the following Sunday.
Only close family knew about it.
The detective listened carefully.
Then he smiled for the first time since we’d met.
“I think she’s going to come.”
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The ceremony went ahead exactly as planned.
Only this time, several guests weren’t really guests.
Two plainclothes detectives sat near the back.
A uniformed officer waited outside.
No one except immediate family knew.
Halfway through the service, the church doors opened.
A woman stepped inside carrying a neatly wrapped gift.
She wore a cream-colored dress, her dark hair falling perfectly over her shoulders.
She looked ordinary.
Until I saw her face.
Sheila.
She smiled as though she’d been invited.
Leon stepped in front of our daughter and me before saying a single word.
“You don’t come anywhere near my family.”
She ignored him.
Instead, she looked at me.
Then at our daughter.
“I just wanted to meet her.”
