10 Years ago on Easter, I found human remains in Easter eggs. Last night the killer sent me a letter

When I was a baby, my parents divorced. It wasn't a mutual agreement, my mother had to file a restraining order against my Dad after he broke into my grandmothers house where my Mom and myself had been staying since the divorce. It got so bad, that my Mom moved us to the other side of the country with my grandma, just to escape him. We thought we had seen the last of him, if only we were right.
When we moved I quickly made friends through my Mom. I became best friends with a kid called Francis. Me and Francis were inseparable, we went to kindergarten together, to school, everywhere one of us went, the other was standing right next to them. The best part was, Francis lived right next door. In fact, my Mom and His Parents were also close friends and recognised that we were best friends, and so when we were five, they took down the fence separating our backyards, making them one big yard. This was even better for Easter, when we could hunt the place for unspeakable amounts of stuff. But, everything changed when I was 8 years old.
When me and Francis discovered the egg, we thought we had hit the jackpot. It was the heaviest egg we had ever held. It seemed like it was full of something, but we couldn't tell what. It was in bright yellow and was the size of my mother's head. We found 5 more, scattered around in strange places, by the pond, inside a bush, inside a tree. When we brought our baskets into my house, our parents gave us puzzled glances
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My mother shook her head in reply, so did Francis' parents. Carefully me and Francis opened one of the large eggs. Inside, was part of a mangled corpse. It was not the whole thing, that was in the other eggs. Instead, in the first egg was the head, split down the middle, the brain hanging out, as well as what appeared to be half the pancreas, the rest was blood. Immediately, my mothers face went pale. Both me and Francis began to cry, whilst our parents dialled nine-one-one.
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When the police arrived, they took the other eggs away, even the smaller eggs were taken away in order to check for any further human remains. They didn't find the whole body, many organs, as well as one of the eyes, was missing. The DNA tests and missing reports showed that the body was that of Elizabeth Taylor, A nineteen year old girl who had been attending college in our town, whilst also working as a waitress on the side at a local diner. The killer was not found.
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The detective wrote these all down, before she headed outside with a few other officers to search for tracks or clues as to where, or who, the killer was.
We soon began to receive envelopes from the killer, containing severed fingers, that when tested were confirmed to have been some of Elizabeth Taylor's missing digits. After the tenth finger, they stopped. We were left in peace, for a while at least
After that, life continued as normal. Me and Francis were both traumatised and had to go to therapy, as we had become so superstitious and terrified, that we rarely left the safety of our houses. Then on the night before Easter when I was nine, I anxiously stared out into the yard after having woken from a night terror. As I stared out into the yard, I saw movement coming from the fence. I opened my window and swung my flashlight to get a better view. Climbing into the yard, over the fence, was a man dressed in an Easter bunny costume. There was dried blood caked on the material, the eyes hollow and empty. The man stared up at me and gave me a little wave. He carefully placed a large yellow egg ,that he clutched in his arms, just by the pond, just like last year. I screamed for help and my mother came running. She ran to the window and saw the newly placed egg by the pond, and the man escaping over the fence. Yet again the police were called. They opened the egg and found inside the missing parts of Elizabeth Taylor's dead body. There was a blood soaked, poorly written note atop the remains. 'Happy Easter'
I didn't hear from the killer again until yesterday. Just a few weeks before Easter. I received a letter to our house that read
'I'm sorry its been so long, last time I saw you, I was climbing over your fence at Easter when you were nine, I'm sorry that poor girl had to sacrifice herself for our reunion. I did this, to have my revenge your mother, and now it's time we finally meet again. I've been there for you, every Easter since the day you were born. Only a few times did I make myself known. I want you to meet me at (I have removed this address for my own privacy) on Sunday, the 21st of April, at 7:00 PM.
-Dear old Dad'
I crumpled the letter in my hand and shook the envelope, a severed finger fell out and landed with a thump on the doormat, attached was a sticky note that read [I]'Your Mother's finger, she's here with me. Her life is on the line