I felt considerably more alive after stopping by my old condo and changing into actual clothes. After leaving Andrew's penthouse, I'd called and texted my babysitter to let her know of the situation, then marched straight to the police station to file a report.
They said they'd send people out to check on what happened, but in the meantime they advised for me and the kids to stay away from the house until everything came back clean.
This was criminal activity we were dealing with, so I didn't hold any hope on them finding any incriminating evidence. Still, I felt better knowing the authorities were involved, even if they were useless for everything but having a god complex half the time.
My foot tapped impatiently against the bleak polished concrete floor of the prison waiting room, where I was being told to stay while someone checked on the whereabouts of Delilah Ramsay.
She was probably in solitary, where she deserved to be.
