Page 25 of The Birthday Girl

“Fine. Just leave it alone. Make sure your doors are locked, and keep your kids in another room. I’m on my way.”

“Okay,” Shanice replied before ending the call.

The line went dead, leaving Shanice in a silence so thick it felt like the walls were listening. She shoved her phone into her pocket, every muscle stiff with dread. The box remained on the floor, the shriveled finger pointing at nothing and everything all at once.

A faint creak from the hallway made her whip her head around. Kali stood barefoot just beyond the corner, her eyes wide and brimming with questions she was too afraid to ask aloud.

“Back in your room,” Shanice ordered, forcing calm into her voice. “And don’t come out until I say.”

Kali nodded and disappeared. A moment later, a door clicked shut, followed by the muffled scuffle of her pulling her brother onto the bed.

Shanice paced the living room, her arms wrapped so tightly around herself it felt like she was holding her body together by sheer force of will.

Every hum of the refrigerator, and every pipe groaning in the walls, made her flinch.

From the back bedroom came only the faint shuffle of her children, obediently quiet, their fear feeding her own.

A knock rattled the door, and Shanice rushed to it, her fingers fumbling the deadbolt before she swung it open. Detective Vega stood in the hall, his expression carved from stone. Two uniformed officers flanked him, their eyes scanning the corridor.

Vega’s gaze locked on hers for a fraction of a second, registering the terror there, before sliding past her into the apartment. “Stay with your children,” he ordered.

Shanice nodded, her throat too tight to speak, and stepped aside. The officers swept in, their radios crackling as they called the scene. One immediately taped off the doorway while the other crouched near the package, snapping photos from every angle.

Vega knelt by the box. His gloved hand lifted the paper flap, exposing the severed finger inside. “Evidence bag. Now.”

The room was filled with movement. Gloves snapped on, plastic rustled, and cameras flashed. The normalcy of Shanice’s home was stripped away, replaced by the cold efficiency of procedure. Her coffee table vanished beneath a spread of evidence markers. Yellow tape stretched across her front door.

From the hallway, Kali’s small voice broke the silence. “Mommy?”

Shanice turned, her heart aching at the sight of her daughter’s wide eyes peeking from the bedroom door. She knelt quickly, holding a finger to her lips. “Stay inside, baby. Please.”

Vega straightened and stepped toward her. “They’re not trying to scare you anymore, Shanice,” he said, his voice grim. “This is a threat. You and your kids can’t stay here tonight. We need to get you out.”

The moment Vega’s words sank in, Shanice’s knees buckled, and she gripped the back of a chair to stay upright.

“Are you serious?” she asked, trying her best to keep from falling apart.

“I’m dead serious,” Vega said, his eyes fixed on hers. “You and your children need to go now. If you stay here, you’re handing them access to you. Don’t wait around to find out what comes next.”

Without wasting another moment, Shanice rushed down the hall to Kali’s bedroom, threw open her dresser, and yanked out handfuls of clothes before shoving them into a duffel bag.

Socks, pajamas, and school shirts tangled together in a messy heap, but none of that mattered.

She snatched sneakers from the closet floor and stuffed them on top before darting across to Tyriq Jr.’s room.

His toys were scattered across the carpet, but she ignored them as she ripped open drawers and swept his clothes into the bag.

A small hoodie snagged on the corner of the dresser, and she nearly tore the zipper off getting it free.

Tyriq Jr. whimpered behind her, sensing her panic, but she didn’t stop.

She grabbed his blanket, his toothbrush, and one of the toys he clutched at night, and shoved them into the bag with the rest.

The duffel was heavy and misshapen by the time she zipped it. Neatness was a luxury that she didn’t have at that moment. Survival was the only thing that mattered.

“Kali, get your brother’s shoes,” Shanice ordered as she rushed out of her room to grab her things.

Kali’s eyes observed her mother, her trembling hands, and the swiftness of her movements before homing in on the half-zipped bag. “Mommy, what’s happening?”

“Just do what I said!” Shanice snapped, her mind fracturing under the weight of fear. She couldn’t answer Kali’s questions, not right then, not with danger pressing in on every side.

After gathering everything her hands touched first, Shanice took off down the hall.

She found Kali frozen in the doorway, eyes wide as saucers.

She seized her daughter's wrist, and Tyriq Jr. whimpered as she hoisted him onto her hip, his Batman car jabbing between her fourth and fifth ribs with each frantic step toward the door.

Vega was waiting at the stairwell, scanning the dim corridor with the posture of a man expecting trouble. His gaze flicked to the duffel, then to the children, and he gave a short nod. “Good. Let’s go.”

With the duffel slung over her shoulder, she grabbed their jackets from the hooks by the door. The three of them followed him down as Shanice’s pulse pounded so hard she swore the kids could hear it.

When they reached the parking lot, Vega stopped beside her Honda, his eyes sweeping the rows of cars, checking for threats. “Get as far away from here as you can, and don’t look back. This place isn't safe for you or your kids until we catch whoever's doing this.”

“Will you keep me updated on what’s going on?” Shanice asked as she yanked open the door.

Vega nodded, his face softening by a sliver. “I’ll call. I promise. Just get out of here.”

“Thank you.” Shanice buckled Tyriq Jr. in with trembling hands while Kali silently climbed into her seat.

After making sure both children were secure, she slammed the door and bolted to the driver's side, throwing herself behind the wheel.

Vega leaned forward, speaking to Shanice through the window. “Drive safely, and don’t stop until you’re someplace safe.”

Shanice's fingers tightened on the steering wheel as she pulled away from the lot, wondering where she could go that would truly be safe.

Her mother's place flashed through her mind first, but the thought of bringing that nightmare to that doorstep made her stomach clench.

Besides, anyone hunting her would check there before anywhere else.

So she drove past the interstate that divided the city, past motels with broken letters and boarded-up Sonic stalls, and past strip malls where parking lots bled into one another.

She drove until the neon and graffiti faded into the sparse scrub of the north suburbs, where development thinned and street names curled back on themselves, where nobody knew her name or cared that she was running from something unspeakable.

Both children fell asleep. Tyriq Jr. first, his head slumping on his car seat harness, thumb in mouth, and Kali later with her face pressed to the window. Shanice drove with the radio off, her left hand at ten o’clock, her right knee bouncing so hard it blistered against the steering column.

The hum of the tires and the rhythm of her knee should have been soothing, but her mind refused to quiet.

Every mile stretched her nerves tighter, every shadow of headlights in the rearview set her pulse hammering.

She wanted to keep driving until the road itself ran out, but that took money, and she had none.

Rent, groceries, and overdue bills had drained her checking account.

What cash she had left would barely cover a tank of gas and cheap takeout.

To get her kids to safety, to put miles, not blocks, between them and whoever had left that box, she needed more money than she had ever needed in her life.

Shanice’s grip on the wheel tightened as she made the turn, her headlights slicing through the dark until Danielle’s house came into view. Her stomach churned, but she pressed harder on the gas. There was no other choice.

She pulled to the curb, killed the engine, and turned to her children. Both were awake now, their faces pale and tired. “Come on,” she said softly, forcing steadiness into her voice. “Stay close to Mommy.”

They crossed the short walk together, Shanice guiding Tyriq Jr. with one hand while Kali clung tightly to the other. She raised her knuckles and knocked, the sound ringing louder than she intended.

The door opened, and there stood Danielle, framed in the glow of the porch light.

Before Shanice could speak, Kali tugged hard at her sleeve, her eyes narrowing in recognition. Her voice came out in a trembling whisper that cut straight through the night.

“Mommy,” Kali said, pointing at Danielle. “That’s the lady who came to my school asking about Daddy.”