Chapter 3
6 PM the next day. Henderson house bathroom.
The sound of running water masked the urgent breathing of two women huddled in the cramped space.
Emily arrived precisely as the note had instructed, and Sarah brought her into the only surveillance blind spot under the pretense of "girl talk." The tension in the small bathroom was suffocating.
"Emily, did you really write this?" Sarah whispered, showing the folded note from last night. "This is too dangerous..."
Emily gripped Sarah's hand with fierce determination: "Sarah, I know you've always protected me. Now it's my turn to protect you."
Sarah responded, "But if Jake finds out..."
"He won't." Emily's voice was eerily calm. "This time, we're going to be smarter than him."
Sarah was shocked by Emily's transformation. The woman before her was no longer the trembling victim, but a calculated avenger.
"Division of labor: you find the other victims, I handle the internal setup," Emily rapidly outlined the plan. "I need you to find evidence of every woman Jake has threatened."
"Emily, you've changed." Sarah stared into her eyes. "Your expression... it's like you've been through something terrible."
Emily thought, "If only you knew I've died once already."
She smiled: "The devil taught me how to become a devil."
8 PM. County Social Services Department, Sarah's office.
Under the dim fluorescent lights, Sarah opened the secret files locked in the fireproof cabinet. The thick folders spread open like Pandora's box, revealing horrifying contents.
"I've been waiting for the right moment, waiting for you to be ready to face the truth," Sarah's voice trembled.
Emily flipped through the photographs. "My God... there are so many others..."
The files contained damning evidence: Emily's medical records, photos of other victims, audio clips of Jake threatening witnesses. Each page was a testament of blood and tears.
"Lisa Martinez's case is the worst," Sarah pointed to a photograph. "Jake had her 'voluntarily' committed to a psychiatric hospital, but I think her recording device might still be out there."
The photo showed Lisa with hollow eyes, like a puppet drained of its soul.
"What about Jennifer Cook?" Emily saw another name.
"Threatened with her son's arrest. Jake 'found' drugs in her son's backpack." Sarah's voice was bitter. "That bastard used children to threaten their mothers."
Emily slammed the file shut: "We have to find them. They're the key."
Sarah said, "Lisa's mother lives on a farm outside town. I'll go see her tomorrow."
"Be careful, Sarah." Emily squeezed her hand. "This time, we both need to live to see justice served."
2 AM. Henderson house.
Moonlight filtered through the blinds, casting prison-bar shadows across the floor. Jake was working the night shift, leaving the house eerily quiet.
In the study, the safe operated normally due to the dry conditions. Emily entered the combination (Jake's birthday—he was that narcissistic) and heard the crisp click of the lock opening.
Cold metal against her fingertips.
Jake's backup gun lay quietly in the safe like a sleeping serpent waiting to strike.
"Scientific principle: flour creates a dust cloud when impacted, obscuring fingerprints..." Emily muttered to herself as she hid the gun at the bottom of the kitchen flour canister.
She looked at the weapon, complex emotions flickering in her eyes.
3 PM. Abandoned Martinez farm on the outskirts of Millfield.
Sarah drove alone to the decrepit farmhouse.
When Lisa's mother Maria opened the door, her eyes were filled with tears: "You're here about Lisa, aren't you?"
"Maria, your daughter isn't crazy—she's just scared," Sarah said bluntly. "That cop said if she didn't cooperate, he'd arrest your youngest son for drugs..."
Maria broke down sobbing: "I know! I know it all! But what could I do? He's a police officer!"
Sarah said, "Your daughter was brave. The evidence she left behind could save other women's lives."
Searching through the attic, Sarah finally found Lisa's old recording device. The moment she pressed play, Jake's demonic voice filled the air:
"Lisa, you can choose to 'voluntarily' check into the hospital, or watch your brother go to prison for what I 'found' in his backpack."
The recording captured Lisa's desperate sobs: "Please... leave my brother alone..."
"Sign the papers, good girl. Admit you have mental problems and need treatment."
Sarah listened to the end, her fists clenched: "That son of a bitch... we've got you now."
Henderson house living room.
The television droned with a mindless soap opera, but Emily's attention was entirely focused on analyzing Jake's psychological weaknesses.
She recalled Jake's drunken rambling: "'She said I'd never amount to anything... she said I was just a failure...'"
What he feared most wasn't death—it was abandonment. Just like his mother had abandoned him.
Emily had noticed Jake always kept a faded photo of a woman in his wallet, but he never admitted it was his mother. Whenever anyone mentioned it, he'd fly into a rage.
"That's your weakness, Jake Henderson," Emily whispered coldly to herself.
She was crafting her strategy: during the final confrontation, she'd use the topic of "maternal abandonment" to completely destroy Jake's rationality.
Make him lose control. Make him make mistakes.
Dusk. Millfield Park.
In the empty children's playground, Emily and Sarah met secretly by the swings. The setting sun stretched their shadows long across the ground.
"Got the recording," Sarah showed the evidence. "Plus medical records from other victims. We have enough material to fight the police department's cover-up."
Emily took the recorder, revenge burning in her eyes: "Final confrontation time: next Wednesday after Jake's night shift. We'll use both his drinking and the safe's humidity problem to our advantage."
"Emily, once we start this, there's no going back." Sarah studied her face. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
Emily stood up, touching the swing's chains: "Sarah, in my previous life you died trying to save me. This time, I'm going to make sure no one else gets hurt."
Sarah was stunned by Emily's words: "Previous life? Emily, what are you talking about?"
"That recording... Jake's voice makes me sick." Emily deflected the question. "We have to stop him."
"I'll get some of the evidence to the state prosecutor ahead of time," Sarah made final preparations. "To ensure that even if our plan fails, the truth will come out."
Emily watched the sunset, remembering the beautiful times when her mother had pushed her on these very swings—the last good memories before the violence began.
"Next Wednesday, it all ends," her voice was steady as steel. "Either he dies, or we all do. But this life has to end."
The distant sound of a police siren echoed across the park. Emily knew it was Jake coming home from his shift.