Chapter 10 - The Trap is Set
By midnight, our living room looked like a tactical command center. Detective Vance, having taken our emergency call seriously, had dispatched two undercover plainclothes units to stake out both ends of our quiet suburban street. On the kitchen island sat a laptop connected to our newly upgraded security camera system, casting a harsh blue glow across Derek’s weathered features as he adjusted the motion-sensor floodlights outside.
"Here’s how we play this," Detective Vance said, leaning over the kitchen table and pointing a pen at a printed blueprint of our property layout. "Lena’s letter and the stalking photos give us immediate probable cause to issue an upgraded federal felony warrant for conspiracy to violate a protective order and terroristic intimidation. But Cole and Lena are slippery. If we just raid their known flophouses, they'll scatter into the wind again."
"So how do we draw them out?" I asked, my hands clenched tightly in my lap, watching Noah sleeping peacefully upstairs through the baby monitor feed resting on the counter.
"We make them think you're vulnerable," Derek chimed in, a dangerous, calculating glint in his eyes. "Tomorrow morning at 8:00 AM sharp, I’m going to pack my truck, load up all my tools, and drive away from the house in broad daylight. Anyone watching the place from the hedge will see the 'protection' leave. They’ll think Mark is home all alone with the kid, completely defenseless."
"It's a textbook honeytrap," Detective Vance admitted, crossing her arms with a hesitant nod. "It carries risks. If Cole or Lena decide to make a move, they might come in hot. But my tactical team will be stationed three houses down in an unmarked utility van. We’ll let them breach the property, step foot inside the house, and catch them red-handed with premeditated intent to kidnap and terrorize. They won't just get a parole violation this time—they'll be facing federal kidnapping conspiracy charges that carry twenty-five years."
I swallowed hard, the weight of the plan pressing down on my chest like a physical anvil. Using my own home as bait felt terrifying, but the alternative—living the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders, wondering when some unhinged thug would jump out from the bushes—was a prison sentence far worse than any jail cell.
"Do it," I said firmly, my voice steadying as I looked between Detective Vance and my brother. "Let's end this."
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The rest of the night passed in a blur of restless pacing and silent vigilance. I crept upstairs every hour just to stand beside Noah’s bed, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, whispering silent promises that I would burn the entire world to ash before I ever let anyone lay a finger on him again.
When dawn finally broke, painting the sky in pale shades of amber and violet, the stage was set. The trap was laid. All we had to do now was wait for the monsters to take the bait.
