Chapter 41 - THE BLACKMAIL FILE
The accidental encounter became an official report. Corinne had been returning from an approved work shift. Our route crossed hers by chance. Surveillance and location records confirmed it. No violation. No planned contact.
I expected my fear to calm.
Instead, seeing Corinne outside prison changed something.
Walls had made her theoretical.
Now she bought drinks from vending machines.
Waited for buses.
Walked beneath the same sky.
For two nights I barely slept.
Then Maisie caught me checking the driveway camera at three a.m.
“Dad.”
I almost dropped my phone.
“Bathroom.”
“You’re watching cameras.”
“I was already awake.”
“Because of her?”
I did not lie.
“Yes.”
Maisie sat on the edge of my bed.
“She left.”
“I know.”
“She didn’t come near me.”
“I know.”
“She did the right thing.”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you acting like she didn’t?”
I rubbed my face.
“Because my body remembers the older version.”
Maisie considered that.
“Like mine did when I was little.”
“Yes.”
That silenced both of us.
I had spent years teaching her that fear was information, not command.
Now she returned the lesson.
We reviewed the safety plan once.
Then stopped.
No new locks.
No tracking Corinne.
No following her public schedule.
I blocked an online forum that had started posting sightings of her.
The documentary eventually aired its final episode.
I did not watch.
Maisie did not watch.
Anna did.
“Why?” I asked.
“So one of us knows if they say anything stupid.”
“That sounds unhealthy.”
“It was.”
“Did they?”
“Plenty.”
“Anything we need to care about?”
Anna thought.
“No.”
Good.
Life returned to its usual chaos.
Then, three months later, Corinne’s parole officer called.
Corinne had been offered a transfer to another state for employment.
She wanted approval.
Geographically farther from us.
I should have felt relief.
I did.
Then Dana added:
“Ms. Vale asked whether Maisie’s letter would remain in her file if she relocates.”
“What letter?”
“The question Maisie sent.”
My chest tightened.
“Why?”
“She said she wants no personal copy transported outside the supervised system unless Maisie wants her to have one.”
I stared at the wall.
Even now, Corinne was treating the letter as something belonging to Maisie.
“Tell her no copy.”
“Understood.”
The transfer was approved.
Corinne moved twelve hundred miles away.
No dramatic goodbye.
Maisie learned three days later.
“She moved?”
“Yes.”
“Far?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Then after a pause:
“I hope she does okay.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
Maisie shrugged.
“I don’t want her here. That doesn’t mean I want her miserable forever.”
Children.
Again.
I smiled.
“You’re allowed.”
That evening she placed Corinne’s answer inside a small envelope and put it in Laura’s cabinet.
I raised an eyebrow.
“You sure?”
“It’s my cabinet too.”
“Fair.”
May you like
She put it behind Laura’s photograph.
Then left the door open.
