A week passed without incident. It was Friday evening, and Melissa was enjoying the drive home and the knowledge that she could relax over the next two days. She might still be lonely, but she looked forward to the peace ahead.
Until she pulled into her driveway.
Without opening the garage door or exiting her car, she promptly called the police. A few minutes later, two officers were standing beside her, staring at the red paint splashed across the garage door that spelled out the words:
YOU’RE DEAD
Since she didn’t live in the town where she worked, Melissa filled the officers in on the threatening emails she’d received the week before.
“And you have no idea who could be doing this?” asked a balding man with a slight paunch and a sprinkle of salt-and-pepper hair. His nametag read A. Lambert.
Melissa hesitated. She felt foolish suggesting a wheelchair-bound person was behind the harassment, but Katie was the only one who came to mind. “Well, this may sound a little crazy…”
“Yes?” asked Lambert’s Hispanic partner, J. Melendez.
“Katie Nyland.”
The older officer scribbled notes in his notepad.
“Katie was a former patient of mine who was in a serious accident several months ago.”
She paused to give him time to write.
“She was bound to a wheelchair with very little mobility and had no family or friends who were equipped to take care of her. I felt so bad for her. The thought of her ending up in a state-run facility was heartbreaking.”
“So you took her in?”
Melissa nodded. “I did. She went to a daycare facility where she could receive physical therapy and other things to help keep her mind occupied while I was at work.”
More scribbling.
“I hid nearly a quarter million dollars in savings under some loose floorboards in the master bedroom. Katie was the only one who knew about it because she saw me add some cash one day.”
“That’s a lot of money,” whistled Melendez. “Why wasn’t it kept in the bank?”
“That’s a good question. I totally regret not keeping it there. I guess I felt better knowing that in the event of an emergency, I would always have plenty of cash on hand—especially since my husband and I have had problems on and off for the last several years.”
“Where is your husband at the moment?”
“We’re separated. He’s renting a condo in town.”
“Could he have anything to do with this?”
Melissa shook her head doubtfully. “Not likely. I’d be as surprised as if I learned my grandmother—God rest her soul—had done something like this. It just isn’t his style. So no, I honestly don’t think he’s involved.”
“Where is Katie Nyland at the moment?”
“That’s what I’ve been wondering for the last five months or so. One day she up and disappeared right along with the cash.”
Melissa could see the shock on the officers’ faces.
“Do you think someone helped her?”
“That’s the only guess I can come up with. Katie wasn’t physically capable of pulling this off herself.”
“Do you think someone from the daycare center helped her, or that she might have been more capable than she let on?”
All Melissa could do was shrug. “Anything is possible. All I know is that her name is the only one that comes to mind as a possibility. But in my field, I meet with many people, and I understand it could be anybody.”
“But why would this Katie Nyland do this to you?”
Melissa shrugged again. “No idea.”
“Do you have any place you could stay tonight?” one of the officers asked.
“I do, but I’d rather not let this incident scare me out of my own home,” Melissa said—and it was true. She knew Katie couldn’t hurt her, but whoever was helping her probably could. Still, she wasn’t going to let herself be bullied out of her house.
The officers left a few minutes later, and Melissa entered her home, fists clenched at her sides in determination. She was going to find this little bitch—and whoever was helping her—and kill them both.
ns216.73.216.122da2
and then Add to home screen.