Chapter 3 - The Confession and the Trap
Three days later, Rachel rested in a private recovery room on the maternity ward. Her legs were heavily bandaged, suspended in traction, but the color had returned to her face, and her eyes held a spark of life that had been missing for months.
Daniel sat beside her bed, holding her hand.
“The police are looking into the cleaning supplies my mother brought to the apartment,” Daniel said quietly, staring out the window at the San Antonio skyline. “They found traces of the industrial stripper in the storage closet. My mother’s fingerprints are all over the bottle.”
Rachel squeezed his hand weakly. “She told me... she told me that if I had a disabled child, it would ruin your life. She said she was ‘curing’ me of my weakness so I wouldn't pass it on to the baby. Every time you went to work, she would... she would force me to soak my legs in the basin while she held me down, telling me it was a traditional remedy for swelling.”
A cold, dark rage settled deep in Daniel’s chest. The woman who had given him life had systematically tortured his wife under the guise of maternal wisdom.
“She won't get away with it,” Daniel vowed, his voice steady and resolute. “Detective Vance is issuing a warrant for her arrest this afternoon.”
That evening, as twilight painted the hospital brick in shades of orange and purple, Daniel’s phone rang. It was Detective Vance.
“Mr. Morgan? We went to your mother’s house to bring her in for questioning regarding aggravated assault and reckless endangerment,” Vance said.
“And? Did you get her?”
“She’s not here. But we found something interesting on her kitchen counter. A printed flight itinerary to Phoenix, leaving tonight at midnight. She’s running, Mr. Morgan.”
Daniel stood up from the chair, walking quietly out into the hallway so Rachel wouldn't hear. “Where is she heading?”
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“We’re tracking her cell phone signal now. She’s driving toward the San Antonio International Airport parking garage. If you want to confront her before we pick her up, or if you want us to handle it quietly... let me know.”
“No,” Daniel said, a hard edge sharpening his voice. “Let me talk to her first.”
