As I stare again at the scrap of paper in my hand for like the umpteenth time, I think that I might spontaneously combust.

“_Meet by the excavator after work, Rachel. I have your dirtbag girl. Your turn!_”

I take a deep breath and call my daughter who should be home from school by now. It goes to voicemail, and I leave a quick message telling her to call me back ASAP, then check the Life360 app on my phone. It shows Bailey is home. Or at least, her phone is. I shove the note back into the case envelope and stick it in my bag as I gather the rest of my things.

“You’re leaving early? Everything okay, Rach?” Dinah, my forensics partner, asks, her eyes wide, one hand still on her microscope.

“Yeah, Di. My daughter’s not feeling well. I need to check on her at home,” I lie. “Can you cover for me?”

“Oh, of course, sorry to hear that. Hey, uh, looks like you’ll miss the meeting later, and I had something to give you—” I miss the rest as I rush out of the lab. What m_eeting_? I think, hurrying to my little blue Miata.

I speed home, pull into the driveway, and sprint to the front door. I drop the keys twice trying to open it, then see her, my Bailey, sitting at the kitchen counter.

“Hey Bails!” I hug her tight despite the confused look on her face. “I’ll explain on the way, but we’ve gotta go. Now, now, now! No questions. Just grab your school bag. And… where’s your phone?”

“Charging, I’ll get it.” My thirteen-year-old surprises me by complying without a word. Ten minutes into the interstate, she finally speaks.

“Mom, what happened? Who are we running from?”

“That obvious, huh?” I try to smile. “Okay… you remember the case I’m working on.” I downshift and pass the truck in front of me.

“Uh, Sulfur? Yeah. He kills cereal.” She gives the usual joke we use when I talk about serial killers, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes this time.

“Well, he’s a really bad man… and he’s left a message… for me.”

“What?! How does he even know you? What does he want?”

“Slow down, honey. We’re okay, alright. We’re going to stay with your aunt.”

“Twin Sizzie?”

“Yes. By the way, it’s Doctor Sizzie now.”

She gives a small smile, clearly impressed. “Wow, that’s great!”

“Yeah… Your Grandma’s told me she was back in the States. Living in that little cabin again.”

“I like her place, but I don’t have a change of clothes or—”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get whatever you need. Just… can you try calling your aunt? I tried earlier, but…”

“Sure! What’s her digits?”

“Okay… two-seven-oh…three-oh-one…five-seven-nine-seven.”

“Got it. It’s ringing… still ringing… it just went to voicemail. ‘Heya, Aunt Sizzie, it’s Bailey. It’s been a while. Please call me when you get this. It’s important. Mom and I are coming to see you. Love you!’”

“She should be home,” I mutter. “Strange?”

“Could something have happened to her?”

I know what she means, and I instantly regret saying anything. “No, no. Paulette’s tough as nails. I’d feel sorry for anyone messing with her.”

She considers that for a moment. “She’d kick their butt.”

“For sure,” I agree, swerving around another car.

“Hey Mom, what did the cereal guy say? The message, I mean?”

“It’s in the brown case file envelope in my bag. Post-it note on top.”

“Found it…” she studies it. “What language is this?”

I laugh for the first time since leaving work. “It’s English. Cursive.”

“Cursive?”

“Yeah. I forgot they don’t teach it anymore, huh? It was required when I was your age.”

“Glad they stopped,” she smirks.

My smile fades when I notice the same gray SUV, which has been tailing us for several miles now, again match my lane change. I keep one eye on it as I stomp on the accelerator.

After a beat, I brake hard and take the necessary exit and am immediately alarmed when the SUV follows.

I say nothing, but Bailey must read my face. “What’s wrong, Mom?”

“Nothing. Uh… I just don’t remember this exit.”

“The GPS says it’s this one,” she points out.

Of course. “They must’ve changed the off-ramp,” I offer. “It’s been several years.”

She nods, accepting that easily. I make a left. When the SUV goes right, I let out a long breath, annoyed at myself for getting so spooked.

We pull into the driveway, and I try calling again. No answer. I unlock the back door with the key hidden in the belly of Paulette’s decorative turtle, then tuck it back into its shell.

The house is empty, but a few lights are on. She’s clearly been here—recently. I scan the upscale decor and, for the millionth time, wish she’d finally get a freakin’ cell phone. She can certainly afford one.

No matter. We’re safe here, and I start mentally listing what needs to be done. First, call work. I dial Dinah.

“Hey Rach, how’s Bailey?”

“She’s… not great,” I say, dragging out the lie. “Listen, I’ll probably be out the rest of the week. Is Pete around?”

“Yeah, he’s here. Oh, and your sister says ‘hi!’”

“What?” I say, shocked.

“Yep! She’s right here. Hold on… ‘it’s your sister.’”

I hear her passing the phone. “Happy birthday, twin!” Paulette’s voice rings out.

“Listen!”

In a mock cheery tone, she says, “happy bday, sis! How are you? How was your flight?”

“Paulette,” I interrupt, “listen! Don’t say anything. Just listen, okay?”

“O… kay…?”

“Bailey and I are at your house—”

“What?—”

“Listen, please! The suspect for the crime I’m handling left a message for me at the crime scene. I thought it was a joke at first, but... It said he has Bailey.”

“No—!”

“Don’t worry, she’s here with me. Mom told me you were back, and I figured your place would be safest.”

“Oh God, Rachel. That’s flippin’ crazy. What did the note say exactly?”

“I’ll show you when you get here, alright. It’s on an old torn post-it.”

“Post-it? What, uh, color?”

“Pink. Why?”

Silence.

“Paulette? You still there?”

“Rachel, did the note say to meet by the elevator? After work?”

I pull the note from the file again, staring at the fourth word. Excavator. But, the ‘x’ could be…

“Yeah, it could be! How the hell?”

“That’s my note!”

“You did this?? You put it in with the case files!”

“Wait! No, no! I stuck it on your shelf. It must’ve fallen into your envelope. I asked your partner for something to write on, and that’s all she had lying around. I guess the adhesive went bad. I’m so sorry!”

“It… fell? Into the envelope? Oh my God, I nearly had a heart attack, Paulette! Why’d you call Bailey a dirtbag and say you had her then?”

“What? No! I wrote, uh, ‘I have your birthday gift. Your twin…’ something like that.”

“Paulette. I regret to inform you that your handwriting absolutely, positively _sucks!”_

“I’m a doctor! Whadya expect, c’mon?” She laughs. I don’t.

“And why were you at my office?”

“Your boss Peter called Mom, and she thought it’d be nice if I surprised you at the birthday meeting today.”

Birthday meeting? The _meeting_. I have no words. If combustion _were_ possible, this would be my second time today.

“Still there, sis?” she asks.

“Yes, I’m here,” I whisper, enunciating each word as my brain catches up.

“Mom, what’s going on?”

I put Paulette on speaker and give Bailey a half-smile. “Well, Bails… we found the culprit.”

“Who was it?”

I look her straight in the eyes. “Gravity.”