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Todd touched her little cheek to soothe her. He then noticed a note against the railing of the crib.
The message read:
Hello Todd,
Keep a watchful eye on your girls. I am.
There was nothing further, but Todd's face went white. He swept Paloma in his arms, then walked to the window which was slightly ajar. He pushed the window closed, locking it.
Holding the baby close, he entered the bedroom. "Marty," he said as he placed their daughter into her arms. "We need to talk." He knew this wouldn't be easy... considering the memories this particular conversation was going to evoke.
Marty sat up in the bed, the sheets wrapped around her body as she carefully lay Paloma down in the bed next to her. "What is it, Todd? What's wrong?" she asked worriedly as she reached for her robe. She leaned over, grabbing the robe from the floor then pulled it on her body. "Is Paloma sick?"
Todd took a seat in the white lounge chair situated near the end of their bed. He glanced over at Paloma when Marty asked if their baby girl was getting sick. "No, she's fine," Todd said softly. "But I found a note in her crib... A theatening note."
Todd took the crumpled note from his hand, smoothed out the edges where he had been clutching it in his fist, and handed it to Marty. Their eyes met and he took in her reaction after she finished reading it. "It's from Powell," Todd told her, hating that name upon his lips.
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