Chapter 2 The Knock and The Handcuff

The first sound Monique heard that morning wasn't birdsong or Cherry's tiny footsteps, it was the knock.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Heavy. Measured. Cold.

It wasn't the impatient tap of a delivery driver or a friendly neighbour's greeting. It was something else. Something final.

She froze.

Cherry stirred beside her on the couch, her curls wild from sleep, one small hand fisted in the hem of Monique's shirt. They had both drifted off sometime after unpacking just the essentials, pajamas, a toothbrush, a stuffed elephant named Blue.

The knock came again.

"Open up! Police!"

Every muscle in Monique's body tensed, her feet was numb, For a second, her mind refused to catch up. She tried to believe she was imagining it, that her nightmares had finally slipped into waking hours.

"Monique Taylor, we have a warrant for your arrest!"

Her breath caught.

No. No.

Cherry blinked at her, eyes wide. "Mommy?"

"Shh, baby." Monique sat up fast, heart pounding, thoughts tripping over themselves. She scanned the room, her shoes, the go-bag, her phone. But she had not packed to run this time. She had come back to build a life. A stable one. A visible one.

And that visibility had just become her downfall.

The knock turned into pounding.

She moved on instinct, scooping Cherry into her arms and whispering, "Don't be scared, okay? Just hold on to me."

Cherry nodded silently, sensing something dark and different in her mother's voice.

The pounding stopped, replaced by the harsh clank of metal.

They were using a key. Or breaking in.

She didn't have time to hide. No time to run.

The front door burst open.

"Hands where we can see them!"

Monique turned slowly, holding Cherry tight. She raised her free hand, her voice calm for her daughter's sake, even as her stomach flipped violently.

"I have a child with me," she said. "Please...."

"On your knees, now!"

A swarm of officers filled the room, boots stomping across the hardwood, guns drawn, unnecessary and cruel.

And then, through the chaos, she saw him.

Detective Harris.

The name twisted inside her. Once, he has been just "Jace." Once, he had held her like she mattered. Once, he had made promises with his lips against her skin.

Now, he was the man behind the badge ordering her to the ground.

Their eyes locked.

And she knew.

He knew who Cherry was.

And he was still here to arrest her.

"Don't do this," she whispered. Her voice cracked with disbelief, pain, betrayal.

But Harris didn't flinch. Didn't blink.

"Take the child," one officer said.

"No!" Monique shouted, clutching Cherry to her chest. "You can't take her! She's......"

A female officer stepped forward, hands out in mock gentleness. "Ma'am, you're under arrest. Please hand the child over so we can....."

"She's scared. Let me calm her down, please," Monique begged. "Please, just a minute."

The officer hesitated.

But Harris didn't.

"Cuff her. Now."

Hands grabbed her shoulders. Cold steel bit into her wrists.

Cherry was screaming now, not just crying but shrieking, a wild, terrified sound Monique had never heard from her daughter before.

"Mommy! MOMMY!"

"Don't let them take her, don't, please, she's just a baby!"

The officer lifted Cherry away, and the toddler flailed and kicked.

"Jace!" Monique cried.

He blinked.

Just for a second.

But it was there.

A flicker of guilt.

Of something buried deep beneath the surface.

Then it was gone.

Cherry was handed off to a woman with a clipboard and a flat expression, a child protective services worker who hadn't even said her name.

Monique twisted in the cuffs. "She doesn't have anyone but me! You can't take her, call Ruby. Ruby Bell. She's my lawyer, she, she has guardianship paperwork in case something...."

"We're done here," Harris said coldly. "Take her to the car."

Tears blurred her vision as she was dragged from the house.

Cherry's screams echoed in her ears long after the door slammed shut.

The police cruiser smelled like sweat and plastic and stale coffee. Monique sat with her wrists pinched behind her back, jaw clenched, trying not to fall apart.

She stared at the back of Harris's head from her seat behind the protective glass, her voice raw as she said, "You didn't even look at her, did you?"

He didn't respond.

"She has your eyes."

That made him pause.

But he didn't turn.

"You knew," she said. "You knew the moment you saw her. Don't lie to yourself, Jace. You knew."

Still, nothing.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked. "You left me. You lied to me. You disappeared when I needed you most. And now you want to take everything else I have left?"

"She's not part of this," Harris finally said, his voice tight.

"You made her part of this the moment you walked through my door."

He met her gaze in the rearview mirror, and for just a moment, Monique saw the man he had been, or the man she thought he was before everything fell apart.

"You're being charged with murder," he said. "Of Ava Morris. You should worry about yourself."

Monique flinched.

"Murder?" she breathed. "I.....I don't even know, what the hell are you talking about?"

"She was found three days ago. Strangled. In an apartment tied to your name."

"That's impossible. I haven't, I just got back! I haven't...."

"She was a client of yours, wasn't she? When you worked under that alias? Community counseling?" His voice was razor-sharp now. "You knew her. And you left the country two days before the warrant was issued."

Monique's mind reeled. Ava Morris? That name did sound familiar, but barely. From two years ago? A woman in one of the trauma support circles? Maybe?

"I didn't kill anyone," she said, her voice low. "You know I didn't."

"We'll see."

He looked away again.

And Monique realized something chilling.

He wanted to believe she was guilty.

Maybe because it would make his own sins easier to live with.

The holding cell was cold and gray, lit by flickering fluorescent lights. Monique sat on the metal bench, shivering more from shock than temperature. She hadn't cried since they had taken Cherry. She couldn't afford to. Not until she knew her daughter was safe.

The guard returned hours later, unlocking the door.

"Your lawyer's here."

She almost collapsed with relief.

Ruby swept into the interview room like a storm, all sharp heels, red lipstick, and controlled fury.

"What the actual hell happened?" Ruby hissed before even sitting down.

"They said I murdered someone named Ava Morris."

Ruby froze, lips parting slightly. "What?"

"I don't even remember her. I think she might've been in one of the support groups I helped with, but...."

"They're claiming you were at the scene," Ruby cut in, already pulling papers from her briefcase. "Apartment leased under a fake name, but the ID photo they used is clearly doctored. The building's surveillance mysteriously went out the day of the murder. Guess who owns the company that manages the property?"

Monique blinked. "Who?"

"Billy."

That name slammed into Monique's chest like a freight train.

Mr. Billy, the man who had taken interest in her "potential" two years ago, who had offered her a sponsorship she refused, who had made her life hell when she tried to pull away.

"I knew it," she whispered. "He's still watching me."

"And now he's setting you up," Ruby said. "But I'm not going to let him bury you. I'll file for an emergency hearing to get Cherry back in your custody. I'll push for bail. But you need to tell me everything. Every detail from the past two years, and before. I don't care how ugly."

Monique swallowed hard. "There's something else."

Ruby narrowed her eyes. "What?"

She hesitated. Then said, quietly, "Cherry's father... it's Harris."

Ruby's pen stopped mid-stroke.

"Jace?" she said, incredulous.

"I didn't know when I left. I was pregnant, but I didn't know who the father was. It wasn't until Cherry was born... but by then, I couldn't go back. He'd already......"

"Abandoned you."

Monique nodded.

Ruby leaned back, the lines around her eyes tightening.

"Well," she said, voice low and dangerous, "now we have a bigger fight on our hands."