The Crimson Ink That Exposed A Family Legacy Of Lies
“That is a lie,” I screamed. “Do not let them go!”
“Mrs. Carter, he has already signed them out,” she said, her voice rising in panic.
“Where are they?” I demanded.
“They just walked out to the parking lot,” she said.
I hung up the phone.
“Stop the car,” I told the taxi driver.
“We are in the middle of the bridge,” he said.
“Stop the car!” I yelled.
I threw a twenty-dollar bill onto the front seat and grabbed my bag.
I pushed the door open into the cold rain.
The wind whipped my hair across my face as I began to run back toward the school.
The blue binder felt heavy in my arms.
My phone buzzed again in my coat pocket.
It was a number I didn’t recognize.
I pressed the screen with a wet thumb and held it to my ear.
“Emily,” Daniel’s voice was calm, almost pleasant.
“Where are my sons, Daniel?” I gasped, running along the sidewalk.
“We are taking a little trip,” he said.
“You can’t do this,” I said. “The police will stop you.”