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Someone who looks similar to me might have moved into the area. The people who saw her—if that’s what happened—aren’t close to me. It’s easy to believe they’d mistake me for someone else. It isn’t like Peter or Megan saw any of it.
I shove the thoughts from my mind and climb out of bed. For now, I’m going to chalk it up to coincidence. If it happens again, then I’ll have reason to look into it. It should be easy enough to figure out if we have a new town resident.
My phone shows a text from Peter saying he’s taking the kids to the park with their cones. They’re probably over the moon with excitement. I smile at the thought, especially after Sophie was so upset about me going to the PTA meeting the other night.
I open my laptop and check my email. More than twenty new messages, and that doesn’t even count the promotions folder. I’m tempted to close the laptop and deal with everything later, but when will I have the house to myself again anytime soon? I’m so busy during the days when the kids are in school, I’m hardly ever home alone.
Most of the messages are about the kids’ schedules. Between the four of them, their schools and extracurricular activities send what feels like dozens of reminders and updates every single day. I quickly skim through them, and make sure my personal calendar matches everything.
I always read messages from senders I recognize before the others, which are usually spam. There’s only one of those left after I open all the others. Before clicking on it, I check the subject line. It’s enough to make my blood run cold.
Do you know where your kids are?
I frantically tap the mouse. The server loads for a moment which stretches into an eternity.
“Just open, already!”
Normally I wouldn’t freak out over what’s likely a spam message, but my nerves are already shot from my interaction with Sylvia earlier. So much for the wine and bubble bath. Now I’m just as frazzled as before.
The email finally opens. It’s short and to the point. And it’s also sent anonymously through a free email provider.
Keep a close watch on your kids. You never know what could happen when you take your eyes off them.
Everything around me goes blurry as I focus on the words.
Someone is threatening my children. They have no idea who they’re dealing with. This troll picked the wrong mother to mess with. I’m going to hunt this person down and make them wish they’d never been born.
But first I need to calm down. Can’t get anything done with pure fury pumping through my veins. I take several deep breaths, not that it helps. I walk around the room. More breathing.
This is ridiculous. The troll is only trying to get under my skin. I know where my kids are—Peter has the littles, Nadia is at her study group, and Dakota is cheering for a football game.
My breathing slowly returns to normal. I pace, trying to figure out what to do. If I respond, I’m only giving the loser what they want. I hover the pointer over the delete button.
No. I can’t do that. This could be evidence if things escalate. After dealing with a narcissist husband, I know all too well the importance of documenting everything.
I won’t reply, and I won’t get rid of it.
What I will do is call Sylvia Lyons and see if she knows anything about this.
ChapterNine
My hands shake as I pull up Sylvia’s information on my phone. I nearly delete her as a contact instead of calling her. This is insane. If I’m this shaken, I won’t be able to have the conversation I want with her. She’ll sense my apprehension a mile away.
I need to be on the top of my game, full of confidence.
Luckily, replaying the whole fiasco at the coffee shop is enough to replace my frayed nerves with the anger and determination I need in order to make this call. For whatever reason, she wants to take me down. She didn’t get what she was fishing for by accusing me of binging and purging, so she upped her game and sent me a threatening email.
Who else could it be? She’s the only person who has any reason for trying to hurt or scare me like that. I haven’t had any negative interactions with anyone else recently—not even with Bryant. Which means an argument is likely due any day now. Could he have sent the message? It’s possible, but I haven’t done anything to upset him.
Unless Trixie also saw the woman who Chelsea mistook for me in the nail salon. Would she have had a negative conversation with that customer? If she did, Trixie would complain to Bryant.
Or wouldshestoop to sending the message?
I plop down on the bed. Ugh. Now I have too many possible suspects. This is starting to get out of hand.
Come to think of it, the threatening email wasn’t addressed to me. It didn’t have my name or my kids’ names anywhere in it.
It’s either some sort of scam phishing for a response, or it might even have been sent to the wrong email address. Actually, that makes a lot of sense now that I think about it. There’s someone in Ohio with only one letter difference, and sometimes we get each other’s emails.
