Page 63 of Finding Mercy

I roll down my window as I pull into the security gate.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Xander and Isabella Kane.”

“You’re not authorized. Pull around in front of the gate to exit. Have a good day.”

I glare at him, “You need to call Isabella to get authorization. My daughter is here, and I will not be leaving without her.”

He huffs and goes inside his guard shack.

My daughter. I have a daughter. Okay, a foster daughter, but soon, we will make it permanent, I hope.

He glares at me, “Go ahead.”

Once the gates open, I drive through as I mutter to myself, “Dick.”

I pull into Xander and Isabella’s driveway, noticing the police car parked on the street at their neighbor's house. I get out and walk up to their door. Man, their home is stunning. There are flowers everywhere. I hope Ivy got a chance to spend some time outside today. I knock on the door, and Xander opens it, “Come in.”

“Ivy’s in the bedroom playing. I didn’t want her around this,” He points in the direction of two police officers talking to Isabella.

“What the hell is going on, Xander?”

“Isabella’s stalker sent her flowers.”

He runs his hand through his hair.

“They won’t do anything. It’s not illegal to send flowers. This is fucking stalking.”

I rub his back, “Does she have a restraining order?”

He shakes his head, “No. He hasn’t done anything violent, so the cops aren’t helpful.”

“Do you mind if I-?”

He throws his hands in the air, “Feel free. I’m not getting anywhere.”

“Excuse me, officers.”

Isabella and the officers turn to me at the same time.

“I’m a family friend. My name is Mercy Madison. I’m a social worker and I know a fair bit about stalking. How do my friends go about getting a restraining order rather than waiting until things become violent?”

The shorter, balding officer says, “With all due respect, we normally get a restraining order after there’s a threatening action. Sending someone flowers is not exactly threatening. So, apparently you don’t know as much about stalking as you thought.”

“Very well, perhaps I don’t. What I do know is that when I ask you for your name and badge number, you have no choice but to give that to me.”

He raises an eyebrow at me.

“Please. Do not waste my time. I am asking for it now.”

The taller officer takes his notebook and pen out and writes down the information. He tears the sheet off and hands it to me, “Here. It won’t change a damn thing.”

I wink at him, “I bet you’re wrong.”

Glancing at Isabella, I ask, “Where’s Elle?”

“In the bedroom with Ivy.”

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