Chapter 6 - The Visitor
The blood drained from my face so quickly I felt dizzy. I kept my hand firmly on the brass handle of the inside door.
"My husband is at work," I said, keeping my voice as flat and emotionless as steel. "Who are you?"
"The name is Raymond. Raymond Vance," he said, offering a crooked grin that didn't reach his dark eyes. "Well, not Vance. Raymond Cruz. But I lived with Jenna for the last year. Up until she went missing from our place."
My knuckles turned white on the deadbolt. "If you have business regarding my late sister-in-law, you need to contact Brenda Alvarez at Child Welfare Services. We do not conduct county business at our private residence."
Raymond took a half-step closer to the glass. "I don't need to talk to some state bureaucrat, lady. That baby in there is mine. Jenna took off because we had an argument, but she didn't have the right to steal my daughter and drop her on her brother’s doorstep."
Inside the house, Toby dropped a wooden fire truck onto the hardwood with a loud crash. Raymond’s eyes snapped toward the sound.
"You need to leave this property immediately," I told him, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. "If you take one more step on this porch, I will dial 911 and report a trespasser threatening my children."
Raymond didn't look intimidated. He shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets and leaned his head to one side. "Call whoever you want. Marcus thinks he can just take what belongs to me because he drives a clean truck and lives in a pretty neighborhood? Tell him I’m filing an injunction on Monday. Unless, of course, Marcus wants to settle this like family."
"Settle it?" The disgust rose in my throat, hot and bitter.
"Kids are expensive," Raymond said casually. "I’m willing to sign whatever surrender papers the state wants. For a reasonable relocation fee. Fifty grand. That’s cheap for a daughter, isn't it?"
The cruelty of the proposition was so naked that for a second, I couldn't breathe. He wasn't a grieving father fighting for his flesh and blood; he was an extortionist using an orphan as leverage.
"Get off my porch," I said, each syllable dropping like iron. "Now."
Raymond’s smile faded into a cold, flat sneer. "Tell Marcus I’ll see him in court. Or he can find me at the diner on Tenth. He knows the one."
He turned and walked down the steps, his boots splashing through the puddles on the concrete walk, before getting into a rusted gray sedan parked across the street. The car idled for a moment, exhaust pluming white into the cold air, and then rolled away.
I slammed the heavy inner door, locked both deadbolts, and leaned my forehead against the cool wood, gasping for breath.
My hands were shaking so violently I dropped my phone twice before I managed to dial Marcus’s direct line.
He answered on the second ring. "Maya? What’s wrong?"
"He was here," I whispered, sliding down the door until I was sitting on the floorboards. "Jenna’s partner. He came to the house."
The background noise on the other end—the drone of table saws and hammering—cut out instantly as Marcus walked toward his truck. "Did he touch you? Did he touch the kids?"
"No. He wanted money, Marcus. Fifty thousand dollars to sign surrender papers. He said if you don't pay, he’s going to court to take her."
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The silence on Marcus’s end was terrifying. When he spoke, his voice was frighteningly calm, stripped of all humanity. "Stay inside. Lock the doors. Call the police non-emergency line and report the plate if you got it. I’m coming home right now."
***
