Chapter 4 - The Ghost from His Past
|
The name echoed in my mind, pulling up a distant, dusty memory from years ago.
When Corey and I first started dating, he told me he had been engaged once before, in his early twenties. He had told me a heartbreaking story about how his fiancée had abandoned him out of nowhere, stealing his savings and vanishing into another state. Lorraine had wept when she told me the story, calling the woman a ‘heartless monster’ who had nearly ruined her son’s life.
Her name had been Elena Vance.
“Corey told me she ran away years ago,” I told Detective Miller, my voice trembling. “He said she was unstable.”
“Well, she didn't run away,” Detective Miller replied flatly. “She lives two towns over. And according to state records, she filed a restraining order against Corey Whitman six years ago.”
My hands shook as I grabbed my phone from the bedside table.
With Sarah guarding the door, I spent the next two hours searching through public court registries and archived police logs. The picture that emerged was terrifyingly familiar.
Six years ago, Elena Vance had been hospitalized with severe physical trauma while seven months pregnant.
The official police report from that night cited an ‘accidental fall down the stairs.’ But attached to the file was a private civil claim Elena had attempted to pursue—a claim that alleged Corey and Lorraine had physically assaulted her in an attempt to force her to relinquish custody rights to her unborn child.
Elena had lost her baby girl that night.
And shortly after, under intense pressure and financial ruin, she had signed a non-disclosure agreement and fled the state.
I dropped the phone onto my lap, tears streaming down my face.
The tragedy that had unfolded in my kitchen wasn't an isolated incident. It was a repeated script. Corey and his mother were serial predators, targeting independent women, isolating them, and attempting to harvest their children under the guise of family devotion.
Only this time, their victim was an emergency room nurse who knew how to fight back.
May you like
I looked at Sarah, who was standing near the door with a fierce look in her eyes.
“Sarah,” I said softly. “Find a private investigator. I need to talk to Elena Vance.”
