Mrs. Higgins pulled a wipe from her pocket and began scrubbing her face. The wrinkles smeared away, the age spots vanished, and the small mole near her cheek disappeared.
She wasn’t 60, maybe closer to her late 40s or early 50s.
Hearing my distress, Mark grabbed the phone from my hand.
“What is this?” he demanded.
The wrinkles smeared away, the age spots vanished.
“I don’t know.”
On the screen, we watched her stand up and walk toward the window. Mrs. Higgins reached behind the curtain and pulled out a large, hidden duffel bag. She unzipped the bag and carried it toward the crib.
I felt as if I were watching a nightmare unfold in slow motion.
“We’re leaving,” I said, already standing. “My babies are in danger.”
Mark didn’t argue when I grabbed our clothes and ran toward the car. He followed me, silent and pale.
During the drive home, my mind raced through every possible horror. Kidnapping, ransom, or revenge.
“My babies are in danger.”
My hands shook as I refreshed the video feed again and again.
When Mrs. Higgins reached into the bag, she didn’t pull out anything dangerous.