Chapter 18
CHAPTER
THE NEXT AFTERNOON I offered to make a coffee run for the office. I used the opportunity to drop by the clinic with Jamie’s phone.
When she saw me, she brought me into an empty exam room. I handed her the phone.
“Listen—there’s something I forgot to tell you yesterday.” She began tapping and scrolling on her phone. “I don’t think I was the only one Madison had following you.”
A lick of electricity shot up my spine. “What?”
“A few times when I was trailing you, I saw another woman hanging around. It looked like she was watching you too, maybe even taking pictures of you. I snapped a photo of her—look.” She handed her phone back to me.
The woman was tall and thin. She was wearing purple capri leggings, a snug black hoodie with the hood up over a baseball cap that hid her hair, and dark glasses. Her head was down, so her face wasn’t visible.
I zoomed in on different parts of the picture, looking for clues. There—on her ankle. A tattoo. I zoomed in as closely as possible. Best I could tell, it was a heart with initials inside, but between the blur from the zoom and the fanciness of the font, I couldn’t make out the letters.
“Are you looking at the tattoo on her ankle? I noticed that too,” Jamie said, leaning in.
“I think the first initial is an H, but I can’t tell what the other letter is.
” She paused, watching me peer at the picture.
“If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t seen her in a couple of months, at least. So maybe she’s not following you anymore. ”
“Let me text this to myself,” I said, tapping in my phone number and hitting send on the photo. “And now you have my number. If Madison contacts you again, please let me know.”
“I will. And good luck with that lawyer.”
The day proved to be full of surprises—as I was waiting for my Uber to take me back to the office, I got a text from Jenna.
It was a photo of a female barista. The woman was wearing the signature dark-green Starbucks apron and visor. She was making eye contact with the camera. I zoomed in on her panicked face, and my breath caught in my throat.
It was Melanie Daniels—my DCS investigator.
Heart pounding, I called Jenna. My mind raced as I waited for her to pick up. What the hell am I looking at? Melanie Daniels working at a Starbucks? Does that mean she’s not a real DCS investigator? She’s a barista?
The pieces fell into place, and it all started to make sense. DCS had told Dr. Quinlan there were no open cases linked to either me or an employee named Melanie Daniels. It was all a fake?
Jenna’s voicemail picked up. Frantically, I tried her again, only to get voicemail a second time. Where was Jenna? Where was this photo taken? What in the world is going on?
I sent an email to Dr. Quinlan, attaching the photo. Her reply came in just as I was getting home that evening: Savannah, I think you should contact the police.
I knew she was right.
It was a long night, with very little sleep, but when I finally gave up and got out of bed at first light, that’s exactly where I headed.
The officer’s frown deepened as I explained how Melanie Daniels—if that was even her name—had shown up on my doorstep, claiming to be there on behalf of DCS to investigate me and my pregnancy. I told him I had two witnesses and walked him through the whole story.
He asked if she had given me any contact information. I cringed with embarrassment as I shook my head. Why didn’t I think to ask for her business card? Then I showed him Jenna’s picture of Melanie Daniels at Starbucks.
“This is very serious. Wait here—I want to bring my captain in on this.”
An hour later, I left the police station feeling slightly more optimistic than before.
I still hadn’t been able to reach Jenna to find out which Starbucks Melanie worked at, but the captain said they could use the photo’s metadata to find the geolocation.
If they found her, she would be arrested and questioned.
Of course, I brought up Madison too, and asked if there was anything that could be done about the harassment.
The captain advised me to apply for a restraining order, but he cautioned me that unless a judge determined an emergency protective order was warranted—which he didn’t think would happen, since there hadn’t been any violence—I would have to bring a civil suit and face Madison in court.
The idea of going to court was unnerving, but I was ready to do whatever it would take to make this all stop.
Thankfully, my meeting with Robert the lawyer was coming up.
The trick, of course, would be proving everything—and even though I’d saved Jamie and Madison’s text history, neither the vandalism to my car nor the hacking and cloning of my phone were mentioned in any of it.
So it would all rely on Jamie’s testimony.
But would she be willing to give it? Oliver and Connor from the cellular store might be willing to provide testimony about the spy app they’d found on my old phone, but how would I prove it was Madison who’d put it there?
Dinner with Robert the lawyer couldn’t come soon enough.
I walked into the restaurant in Little Italy and immediately spotted Ellie, her parents, and a man I assumed must be Robert, seated around a table near the front windows.
Ellie got up to hug me. “You already know my mom and dad, of course, and this is my—what’s the right term? Second cousin? Twice removed?” Everyone laughed. “Well, either way, this is Robert.”
He stood up and shook my hand. “Pleasure to meet you.” I put him in his early fifties. He had a friendly smile, which helped to put me at ease.
Once we had ordered, and the wine was flowing—for everyone except me, of course—Robert finally broached the topic I’d been waiting for.
“So—Savannah,” he began. “Ellie has told me a bit about your situation with the father of your child and his significant other. First off, let me say—I’m so sorry you’re going through this.”
His concern felt genuine, which was nice. “Thank you.”
I launched into my story. Robert’s eyes widened at several points, as did Ellie’s dad’s, and he shook his head in disbelief when I got to the latest part—learning that Melanie Daniels was a barista, and that my whole DCS investigation may have been a fake.
“Jesus Christ,” he said.
“I told you it was wild,” Ellie said grimly.
“I only have one month left before my due date,” I said, “and now that I know they’re actually married, it seems Madison is going to be around for good.
But I’m not sure what the right approach is.
Should I try to get a restraining order?
Or … someone mentioned a civil suit? I could really use your advice. ”
Our entrees were delivered, and we all began to dig in.
“Well,” said Robert after putting away his first few bites of chicken parmigiana, “this woman, Madison, has committed destruction of property by vandalizing your car. Hacking and cloning your phone is another crime. I think you have a decent chance of getting a judge to grant you a restraining order on grounds of civil harassment, especially if we can get your doctor to back you up that all the stress this is causing is harmful to your baby. If granted, it would prevent her from coming near you or contacting you in any way, including via social media. I’m not sure what a judge would say about the baby, though.
They could order that she can only be around the baby with Max present.
But at the very least, it would mean all communication about the child has to go through you and Max alone. ”
“What about the fact that she uses other people to mess with me?”
“If you can prove it—for example, with the texts you mentioned—then you have a more serious claim on your hands. You can press charges. Let’s hope the police can locate Melanie Daniels—maybe they’ll be willing to offer her a deal in exchange for testifying against Madison.
Or what about this woman Jamie, from the doctor’s office?
Would she be willing to testify that Madison blackmailed her into accessing your medical records, among other things? ”
“I don’t know … I hope so. I can try talking to her about it. So … what should I do?”
“Well, if you like, I can send Madison a certified letter letting her know you have engaged my services, and that if she doesn’t cease all actions, we’ll take her to court.
That might be enough to scare her into backing off, and we can avoid court for now—although I definitely suggest getting a legal custody agreement in place as soon as possible once the baby is born, to protect your rights going forward and lay down some ground rules about Madison. ”
“And you could help with the custody agreement?”
“Yes—that’s one of the things we specialize in at my firm.”
“And where are you based out of?”
“Sacramento.”
I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Oh my God—thank you. This is exactly what I was hoping for.” A plan forward. Actual steps to take. I smiled my first genuine smile in weeks.
“Here’s my card.” He pulled one out of his wallet. “When I get back to the office in a couple of days, I’ll draft the letter. And you can call me anytime if you have questions.”
“Thank you so much. I feel a million times better already.”
“My pleasure.” He took another bite of his chicken. “Anything for a friend of the Parkers.”
I looked over at Ellie. She winked, and I blew her a kiss.
The next morning, I called the police station to check in with the officer I’d spoken with the day before. I asked if there was any news on where Jenna had taken the Starbucks photo, or if they’d managed to track down Melanie Daniels.
“The data on the photo just came back—looks like it was taken just a few days ago, north of the city, in Marin County. I called and spoke to the manager of the Starbucks. Melanie Daniels—which is actually her name—is on the schedule tomorrow, so I warned him that we’ll be stopping by to question her.
He’s going to keep it under wraps so she doesn’t get spooked and not show up. ”
“That’s great. Say—where is the Starbucks?”
“Sausalito. But ma’am, let the police handle this. I do not recommend you attempt to approach her.”
“Understood. Thank you so much. Please let me know how it goes.”
I hung up and went into the kitchen to figure out dinner. But something was distracting me—a nagging feeling, tugging at the back of my brain.
Sausalito …
I’d heard the name recently. Who lived there?
I was about to make myself some tea when a lightning bolt cracked in my brain.
Of course—Madison’s parents.
The Clarks live in Sausalito.