The Stolen Wife.

chapter fifteen

The next day Elizabeth stood frozen in her living room, her eyes unable to leave the television.
Her coffee mug shook in her hands so badly that coffee was splashing over onto the expensive carpet.

She had turned on the news as she finished packing Jordan's lunch, and cleaning the kitchen.

When the anchorman began speaking about bodies found in the river she had only glanced up, uninterested, but then she saw the mugshots of the men.

Their mutilated bodies had been found earlier on the morning by fishermen, the anchor woman rattled off a list of injuries including amputated hands.

She stood rooted in shock as the faces of the men who had tried to assault her were on the screen, as the news warned of a possible deranged killer on the loose.

"Babe," Jordan spoke behind her.

She jumped at the sudden noise her coffee mug falling to the floor and snapping her out of the daze she was in.

"Oh, sorry I didn't mean to scare you," He said quickly.

"No, it's fine I just...I was a little lost in a daydream," she said finally, unable to speak the truth.

"I'm going to go get the kids on my way home from work."

"Really?" She asked her chest swelling with hope.

"Yes, so I'll be about thirty minutesb late."

"That's okay," she said weakly her eyes still on the television.

Jordan glanced at the television then placed a quick kiss on her forehead. Brushing past her into the kitchen her grabbed his keys and briefcase.

"Lock the doors behind me, okay? Just in case."

"Okay."

He was gone a second layer his car backing out of the drive and disappearing down the street.
With a shaky hand she picked up the remote and tuend off the television.

She set her coffee mug on the kitchen island and the busied herself all day. She did laundry, changed sheets on the children's bed then walked to the end of the driveway to retrieve the mail.

She was at the mailbox when the cheap phone in her pocket rang, she flippes it open without looking at the number.

"Hello?"

"Did you get your package?" Rhys asked.

She opened the mail box to see a small box inside wrapped in paper. Her name was scrawled onto the tip with a thick black marker.

"Yes, what is it?" She asked carefully tucking it against her body.

"It's a gift for you."

She took the package and rest of the mail into her house setting it on the kitchen counter.
Tucking the phone against her shoulder she opened the paper and then the box.

When the box opened her eyes landed on what was inside and couldn't help the scream that tore from her throat.

She stumbled back away from the package the phone falling to the floor.
A second after the screaming stop her stomach lurched, she fell against the sink and promptly emptied her stomach.

"For fucks sake," a voice said behind her.

Rhys stood in the doorway to the back yard just feet away from where she sagged over the sink.

He stood even closer to the box that contained a single, tattooed, severed hand.

She heaved again not producing anything but stomach acid. He waited a minute before crossing the floor and closing the box.

"Why? Why would you send me that?" She asked.

"Those bastards had their filthy hands all over you."

"So you killed them?"

"I don't like people touching my stuff."

She glanced back at the box he had closed her stomach turning violently again only this time managing to not be sick.
She turned on the water rinsing the sink and then her mouth.

"I wanted you to know they'll never touch you again. Ever."

She stood weakly and turned towards him holding onto the sink for support.

He watched her a long mimute then picked up the dropped phone. Flipping it closed and setting it on the counter.

"You really don't have the stomach for this, do you?" He asked.

She wiped her eyes that were watering and shook her head, taking a shaky breath.

"I will take it and throw it out."

She gave a small nod but didn't reply.

"When is your husband bringing ba k your children?"

"Tonight, why?"

"You're better when you have them, you focus more, you're...stronger, more sure  of yourself. I like it."

"My children aren't leverage," she snapped quickly.

"I'm not the one using them as leverage, I didn't take them from their mother."

"Why do you care so much about my kids?"

"I don't, I don't care about them or you but I know a boy needs his mother. If I had a mother half as good as you, if I had a woman like you...let's just say I don't like seeing a good thing go unappreciated."

"Take that hand out of my house."

"Yes ma'am."

"And give me some time off, please?" She asked, her voice wavering slightly.

"From?"

"Everything, jobs, texts, you...severed hands. Just let me be me again, let me be a mom, for a few days."

"You could be so much more than just a mom."

"I don't want to."

He watched her for a few seconds then gave a small nod, lifting the box from the counter.

"Jordan is right you should keep the doors locked, there is a madman on the loose."

She watched him leave out the front door then followed when he was gone. Locking the door behind him she looked out the window but didn't see a car.

She walked to her back door, assuming that's how he entered the house she locked it as well.

Through the glass she could see the abandoned train Bridge high above a nearly dry river.
She saw the car on the other side of the bridge and the figure all in black walking across.

He had been parking close enough to watch her but far enough nobody would notice or suspect a thing all along.

She closed the curtains, they were nearly sheer but the feeling gave her some peace and a fake sense of privacy.