Chapter 15
The call came during lunch prep.
Ivy was elbow-deep in potato salad—her contribution to compound meals, since the kitchen had become her territory over the past week—when her phone buzzed with an unknown number. She almost ignored it. Almost.
Something made her answer.
"Ms. Caudill?" A woman's voice, professional but strained. "This is Principal Dawson at Millbrook Elementary. I'm calling about Mae."
Ivy's heart stopped.
"What happened? Is she hurt?"
"No, no—Mae's fine. She's in my office right now, completely safe.
" A pause that felt like an eternity. "But there was an incident during recess.
A man in the parking lot. He didn't approach any children or enter school grounds, but he was...
watching. Taking photographs. One of our teachers noticed and called the police, but by the time they arrived, he was gone. "
Ivy's hand tightened on the phone until her knuckles went white.
"What did he look like?"
"Late twenties, according to the teacher. Heavy-set. Driving a dark pickup truck." Another pause. "Ms. Caudill, the concerning part is what he left on the fence. A note, addressed to you by name. It said—" The principal's voice faltered. "'Tell Mama I said hi.'"
The world narrowed to a single point.
Tell Mama I said hi.
Someone had been at her daughter's school. Had watched her daughter play. Had taken photographs and left a message designed to do exactly what it was doing right now—tear Ivy apart with fear and fury.
"I'm on my way."
"The police would like to speak with you when you arrive. They're treating this as a potential threat and—"
"I'll be there in twenty minutes."
She hung up without waiting for a response. Her hands were shaking. Her whole body was shaking, tremors running through her like electricity with nowhere to ground.
Mae. They went after Mae.
Splinter found her in the parking lot, already climbing into the truck.
"What's wrong?"
"Someone was at Mae's school." The words came out jagged, broken glass in her throat. "Watching her. Taking pictures. Left a note for me on the fence."
His expression went cold. Not angry—not yet—just utterly, terrifyingly still. The kind of stillness that came before violence.
"Get in. I'm driving."
She didn't argue.
The ride to Millbrook Elementary took fifteen minutes at speeds that probably violated several traffic laws.
Ivy stared out the window, seeing nothing, her mind playing the same scenario over and over: Mae on the playground, laughing, running, completely unaware that a predator was watching from the parking lot.
Cataloguing her. Taking pictures to prove he could get to her whenever he wanted.
Tell Mama I said hi.
"Wayne." Splinter's voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. "Garland's nephew. He's been trying to prove himself since Floyd died—taking on bigger jobs, trying to show he can handle the family business."
"You think this was him?"
"I know it was." His hands tightened on the wheel. "This is exactly his style. Can't win a straight fight, so he goes after someone who can't fight back. Threatens a child to get at the mother."
"He watched my daughter." Ivy's voice came out flat, disconnected from the rage building in her chest. "Stood in a parking lot and watched her play and took pictures and—"
She couldn't finish.
"I know." Splinter reached over, covered her hand with his. "I know, Ivy. And I promise you—he's going to answer for it."
"I want to be there."
"What?"
"When he answers for it." She turned to look at him, and whatever he saw in her face made his jaw clench. "I want to be there. I want him to see my face. I want him to know exactly whose daughter he threatened before he pays for it."
Splinter was quiet for a long moment.
"That's not how the club works. We handle threats—"
"She's MY daughter." The words exploded out of her, days of fear and fury finally finding a target.
"Mine. Not the club's, not anyone else's—mine.
I've watched men burn down my diner and kill people to protect us and I've stayed back because that was the right thing to do.
But this is different. This is Mae. And I will not sit in a room somewhere waiting to hear how it went while the man who photographed my five-year-old gets what's coming to him. "
"Ivy—"
"Don't." Her voice cracked. "Don't tell me it's too dangerous.
Don't tell me I should leave it to the professionals.
I don't care about danger. I don't care about anything except making sure that man understands—really, truly understands—what he did.
What he threatened. What happens to people who threaten my child. "
The truck pulled into the school parking lot. Ivy saw police cars, teachers clustered near the entrance, the principal waiting by the front doors with Mae's small hand clutched in hers.
But she couldn't move. Not yet. Not until she had his answer.
"Well?"
Splinter turned to face her. The cold stillness was still there, but underneath it she saw something else. Recognition, maybe. Understanding.
"You want him to know what he threatened," he said slowly. "You want to be there when he learns what that costs."
"Yes."
"That's not mercy. What you're asking for—that's not letting him off easy."
"I know." Ivy held his gaze, letting him see everything: the fear that had curdled into fury, the protective instinct that had sharpened into something lethal. "I know exactly what I'm asking for. And I'm asking anyway."
A long moment passed.
Then Splinter nodded once. "When we find him. You'll be there."
"Promise me."
"I promise."
Mae ran to her the moment Ivy stepped out of the truck.
Small arms wrapped around her legs, small body pressing close, small voice muffled against her jeans. "Mama, a man was watching us. Mrs. Patterson said he was bad and we had to go inside."
Ivy crouched down, gathering her daughter into her arms, holding her so tight it probably hurt.
"I know, baby. I know. But you're safe now. You're safe."
"Was he one of the bad men? Like the ones at the cabin?"
Tell Mama I said hi.
"He's not going to bother you again." Ivy forced her voice steady, forced herself to project a calm she didn't feel. "I promise you, Mae. He's never coming near you again."
The police wanted statements. Descriptions. Timeline information. Ivy answered their questions on autopilot, providing what she could while Mae sat in the principal's office with a cup of juice and Diana's mother—Rachel, she realized, who must have come when she heard—keeping her company.
Through it all, Splinter stood at her side. Silent. Watchful. A wall of controlled violence waiting to be unleashed.
The officer taking her statement was young, earnest, clearly out of his depth. "Ma'am, we take these threats seriously. We'll increase patrols around the school, and if you can provide any information about who might be targeting you—"
"I can provide information." Ivy's voice came out cold. "His name is Wayne Messer. He works for his uncle, Garland Messer, who runs a debt collection operation out of Pikeville. They've been threatening me for weeks."
The officer's pen stilled. "You know who did this?"
"I know." She met his eyes. "The question is what you're going to do about it."
Silence.
"Ma'am, if you have information about ongoing criminal activity—"
"I've told you what I know." Ivy stood, suddenly exhausted, suddenly done with questions that would lead nowhere. "Wayne Messer. Garland Messer. Debt collection operation. Do with that what you will."
She collected Mae from the office, thanked Rachel for coming, and walked out of the school with Splinter at her side and her daughter's hand clutched in hers.
The truck ride back to the compound was quiet.
Mae fell asleep within minutes, the stress of the day finally catching up with her. Ivy watched her in the rearview mirror—the soft rise and fall of her breathing, the peaceful expression that should never have been disturbed by predators and photographs and messages left on school fences.
"He's going to die," she said quietly.
Splinter didn't answer.
"Wayne Messer is going to die for this. I don't care about the debt anymore. I don't care about Garland or the operation or whatever else is going on. Wayne watched my daughter. He took pictures of her. He left that note to let me know he could reach her whenever he wanted."
"I know."
"And when the club finds him—when you find him—I want to be there. I want him to look me in the eyes and understand exactly what he did. I want the last thing he sees to be the mother of the child he threatened."
Splinter glanced at her. Whatever he saw in her face made him nod slowly.
"You'll be there."
"And it won't be quick."
"No." His voice was rough. "It won't be."
Ivy turned back to the window, watching the mountains roll past, feeling the cold fury settle into her bones like something that had always been there waiting to be awakened.
She'd spent weeks being afraid. Weeks hiding, running, letting other people fight her battles because she didn't know how to fight them herself.
That was over now.
Wayne Messer had made a mistake. He'd thought threatening a child would break her, would send her running, would prove that Garland's operation could reach anyone, anywhere, no matter who protected them.
Instead, he'd created something far more dangerous than fear.
He'd created a mother with nothing left to lose and everything to avenge.
Ivy looked at her sleeping daughter, at the man beside her who'd promised she could be there when justice was delivered, at the road stretching toward a compound full of people who would help her end this.
The mother's fury burning behind her eyes could light fires without matches.
And Wayne Messer was about to learn exactly how hot those fires could burn.