Ivy’s arms tightened around my waist, and I looked toward the car. The rear door was opening. A tall man in a gray suit stepped out, and Ivy began to tremble so hard I felt it through my sweater. Marcus moved in front of us. “Mom, take the children inside right now and lock the door.” The twins stood frozen on the lawn, and my grandson whispered, “Grandma, who is that man?”

The man walked up the driveway, smiling. “I am Curtis Vale,” he said. “My niece was taken across state lines without permission, and I am here to collect her.” Ivy hid her face against my side and sobbed, “He told me Daddy would never come for me.” My son’s hands curled into fists. Then a second car rolled to a stop at the curb, a woman stepped out holding a badge, and Curtis’s smile finally cracked.