Chapter 5 - The Hidden Scribble on the Note
Back at the hospital, Lily was finally sleeping, her fever breaking under the combined effects of intravenous antibiotics and the comforting warmth of clean hospital blankets. Leo was resting quietly in the crib beside her, his tiny chest rising and falling in a steady, peaceful rhythm.
Officer Rachel Brooks stood by the window of the hospital room, watching the gray dawn break over the Detroit skyline. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was Marcus.
“Rachel, are you still at the hospital?” Marcus asked, his voice tense.
“Yeah, I’m checking on the kids,” Rachel replied. “Social services is stepping in to keep them here under protective custody until we find Sarah.”
“Listen to me very carefully,” Marcus said urgently. “Did you bring the note Sarah left on the kitchen table in Apartment 4B? The one Officer Brooks found next to the empty pharmacy bag?”
Rachel’s eyes widened. She reached into her utility jacket pocket and pulled out the evidence bag containing the torn piece of lined paper.
“I have it right here,” Rachel said, holding it up to the light. “It says: ‘I'll be back in half an hour. Don't open the door. I love you. Mom.’”
“Look closer at the bottom margin,” Marcus instructed over the line. “Underneath the tear. Use the pen light on your belt.”
Rachel flipped the plastic bag over, switching on her small flashlight and angling the beam across the rough, torn edge of the paper. Beneath the hurried handwriting, pressed so hard into the paper that it had left an indentation on the kitchen counter underneath, was a secondary scribble written in a frantic, jagged hand.
It wasn't a message to her kids. It was a license plate number.
MI - D F K - 8 9 2 0.
And beside the numbers, a single word underlined twice: VANCE.
Rachel’s breath caught in her throat. Sarah hadn't just left a note for her children; she had anticipated that something might happen to her, and she had left a physical fingerprint of her stalker right under her children's noses, praying someone would look closely enough to see it.
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“I see it, Marcus,” Rachel breathed, her voice trembling slightly. “Michigan plate, DFK-8920. Vance.”
“That’s not just his last name,” Marcus said triumphantly. “That’s his father’s old hunting cabin up near Grayling. It’s an abandoned property deep in the state forest where nobody goes for miles. That’s where he’s taking her, Rachel. I'm calling State Police right now.”
