I was shaking out the dirt from my nine-year-old daughter Chloe\u2019s backpack on Monday evening when those crumpled bills fell out. Two twenties. I asked her where on earth she got that kind of money, and she just shrugged.<\/p>\n
She said a nice lady at her after-school program gave it to her for being a good girl.<\/p>\n
Well, let me tell you, my motherly instincts went into overdrive. We pay one hundred and seventy-five dollars a month for this program, so I called them up. The girl on the phone swore up and down that every single worker was background-checked. I just couldn\u2019t shake the bad feeling, though.<\/p>\n
So, the next afternoon, I went there early. It was about three-fifteen. I peered through the little glass window of the classroom.<\/p>\n
There was a woman I had never seen before, sitting on a tiny chair right next to my Chloe. She was brushing my sweet girl\u2019s hair and taking photos of her on her phone. Three different photos, posing her like a doll.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t even think. I just marched right in.<\/p>\n
I asked her who she was, and she jumped out of her skin. She told me she was a volunteer, but when I asked why she was handing my daughter cash, she grabbed her purse and practically ran out the door.<\/p>\n
I went straight to the director\u2019s office and demanded the sign-in logs. The woman\u2019s name was Janet Boyle, and she had been coming there for five weeks. Not a single background check had been run.<\/p>\n
The director started shaking as she pulled up the physical application Janet had filled out. I looked down at the paper, and my eyes landed on the emergency contact line.<\/p>\n
It was my ex-husband\u2019s name and phone number. Underneath, where the form asked for the relationship to the contact, Janet had written one word. Fianc\u00e9e.<\/p>\n
He couldn\u2019t get visitation rights through the courts, so he paid his new woman to pretend to be a volunteer just so he could get photos of my baby. I am sitting in my car right now waiting for the police, and I honestly can\u2019t stop shaking.<\/p>\n
I watched the blue lights of the police cruiser wash over the school\u2019s old brick sign. It was getting dark out, and the wind was starting to pick up. The air had that damp,\u00a0cold<\/span>\u00a0autumn chill that gets right into your joints if you sit still too long. My hands were still gripping the steering wheel so tight they felt stiff. Honestly, I couldn\u2019t stop them from shaking. I kept looking at the rearview mirror, half expecting to see my ex-husband Greg\u2019s car pull up behind me.<\/p>\n Officer Benson was his name. He was a nice young man, probably no older than twenty-five, bless his heart. He walked up to my driver-side window and tapped gently on the glass.<\/p>\n \u201cMa\u2019am?\u201d<\/span>\u00a0he asked when I rolled it down.\u00a0\u201cAre you Mary?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n I just nodded. I couldn\u2019t even find my voice for a second. I pointed toward the double doors of the after-school building.\u00a0\u201cShe\u2019s gone,\u201d<\/span>\u00a0I managed to say.\u00a0\u201cThe woman. But her paperwork is still inside.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n We walked back into the lobby together, and the officer had to hold the door for me because my knees felt like absolute jelly. The smell of floor wax and old school lunches always makes me think of my own school days, but today it just made me feel sick to my stomach.<\/p>\n The director, Mrs. Gable, was sitting at her desk. She looked completely\u00a0petrified<\/span>. Her face was pasty, and she kept tapping a yellow pencil against her coffee mug. Tap, tap, tap. It was driving me absolutely up the wall.<\/p>\n \u201cTell him,\u201d<\/span>\u00a0I said, pointing at the officer.\u00a0\u201cTell him who you let in here around my kid.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Mrs. Gable looked up at Officer Benson, her eyes wide and watery.\u00a0\u201cIt was an oversight,\u201d<\/span>\u00a0she whispered.\u00a0\u201cWe\u2019ve been so short-staffed since October, and she seemed so sweet.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cAn oversight?\u201d<\/span>\u00a0I shouted. I didn\u2019t care who heard me.\u00a0\u201cYou let a strange woman brush my daughter\u2019s hair! You let her take pictures on her phone!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Officer Benson held up his hand to quiet me down.\u00a0\u201cLet\u2019s calm down for a second,\u201d<\/span>\u00a0he said.\u00a0\u201cShow me the application, please.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Mrs. Gable handed over the clipboard. The paper was slightly crumpled at the corner, like she had tried to stuff it away in a drawer before we came in. I stared at that name again. Janet Boyle. It still didn\u2019t ring any bells.<\/p>\n But then I pointed to the emergency contact line.\u00a0\u201cThat\u2019s Greg\u2019s number,\u201d<\/span>\u00a0I told the officer.\u00a0\u201cMy ex-husband. I\u2019d know those last four digits anywhere.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Seeing his number written out in that neat, loopy handwriting made my brain kind of go numb for a second. Greg and I had been divorced for three years. The judge took away his visitation rights after he tried to take Chloe out of state without telling me. He hadn\u2019t seen her in eighteen months.<\/p>\n \u201cDo you know this Janet woman, Mary?\u201d<\/span>\u00a0the officer asked me.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d<\/span>\u00a0I said.\u00a0\u201cBut if she\u2019s with Greg, she\u2019s trouble. He always finds a way to get what he wants.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Officer Benson took out his little notepad.\u00a0\u201cWe\u2019re going to call him,\u201d<\/span>\u00a0he said.<\/p>\n He dialed the number right there in the office and put it on speakerphone. The ringing sound was so loud in that quiet room. It rang three times, and then a man\u2019s voice picked up.<\/p>\n \u201cDid you get her?\u201d<\/span>\u00a0Greg asked. He sounded out of breath, excited.\u00a0\u201cJanet? Is she with you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n I couldn\u2019t help myself. I leaned right over the desk.\u00a0\u201cShe\u2019s not with her, Greg!\u201d<\/span>\u00a0I screamed into the phone. \u201cThe police are here!\u201d<\/p>\n There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end, and then the line went dead. Just static.<\/p>\n Officer Benson frowned and hung up. \u201cWell,\u201d he said. \u201cThat confirms it.\u201d<\/p>\n While the officer was talking to Mrs. Gable about the lack of background checks, I walked back down the hallway to the classroom to get Chloe. She was sitting at one of those tiny round tables, coloring a picture of a horse. She looked so small and innocent.<\/p>\n I sat down in the chair next to her, the same one Janet had been sitting in.\u00a0\u201cHey, sweetie,\u201d<\/span>\u00a0I said.\u00a0\u201cAre you ready to go home?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Chloe looked up and smiled.\u00a0\u201cDid the nice lady have to leave?\u201d<\/span>\u00a0she asked.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, baby,\u201d<\/span>\u00a0I said.\u00a0\u201cShe had to go.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cShe told me we were going to a surprise party,\u201d<\/span>\u00a0Chloe said, swinging her legs.\u00a0\u201cShe said Daddy was going to be there with a big cake.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n I felt a\u00a0cold<\/span>\u00a0sweat break out on the back of my neck.<\/p>\n He wasn\u2019t just trying to get photos. He was planning to take her.<\/p>\n I looked down at the floor, and that\u2019s when I saw it. Janet had been in such a rush to leave that she left her large canvas tote bag sitting right under the kid\u2019s art table, tucked behind a plastic bin of building blocks.<\/p>\n \u201cOfficer Benson!\u201d<\/span>\u00a0I called out.<\/p>\n The officer came in and\u00a0used<\/span>\u00a0a pen to open the zipper. He pulled out a small, black leather daily planner.<\/p>\n He opened it to the current week. Every single day was marked with Chloe\u2019s schedule.\u00a0\u201c3:15 PM, brush hair, take photos for G.\u201d<\/span>\u00a0\u201c4:30 PM, mention the cake.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n But it was the tucked-in envelope at the back of the planner that made me lose my breath.<\/p>\n It was a printed one-way flight confirmation for three people. One for Greg, one for Janet, and one for Chloe. The destination was a country that doesn\u2019t have an extradition treaty with the United States.<\/p>\n The departure date on the ticket was tomorrow morning at seven.<\/p>\n I grabbed Chloe and held her so tight she complained I was hurting her arm. I didn\u2019t care. I just cried into her hair right there in the classroom.<\/p>\n The police have issued a warrant for both of them now. My brother is coming over with a new set of deadbolt locks for the front door.<\/p>\n Chloe is fast asleep in her bed right now. I\u2019m sitting on the edge of her mattress, watching her chest rise and fall in the dark. I keep looking at my phone, waiting for a text from the detective. Every little creak of this old house makes me jump. I know we\u2019re safe for tonight, but I also know Greg. He\u2019s still out there somewhere, and I don\u2019t think I\u2019ll ever sleep soundly again.<\/p>\n I was shaking out the dirt from my nine-year-old daughter Chloe\u2019s backpack on Monday evening when those crumpled bills fell out. Two twenties. I asked her where on earth she … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3910,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[3,4,5],"class_list":["post-4926","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-story-of-life","tag-family","tag-friend","tag-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storylifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4926","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storylifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storylifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storylifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storylifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4926"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/storylifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4926\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4927,"href":"https:\/\/storylifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4926\/revisions\/4927"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storylifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/3910"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storylifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4926"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storylifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4926"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storylifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4926"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}End of story.<\/h4>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"