Chapter 10: The Ghost That Ruled Us All
Roger stared at the paper like it was written in a foreign language. His hands started shaking.
"That’s not true," he whispered. "They called me last month. They left a note on my truck. I saw someone watching the cabin last week."
"You watched yourself," Chris said gentle but firm. "You carried that guilt and fear for thirty years. You were so scared of losing someone you loved… you hurt the only person you should have protected with your life."
Roger dropped the gun. It hit the floor with a dull thud. He sank down beside it, shoulders heaving with silent sobs.
"I just wanted to keep her safe," he said. "That’s all I ever wanted."
Sirens blared outside—state police, called by Chris before we even left the main road. As they cuffed Roger, he looked at Sarah.
"I’m sorry," he said. "I’m so, so sorry."
She didn’t look back. She just ran straight to me, and I held her so tight I thought I’d never let go.
But as we walked out to the cars, a black SUV pulled up fast. Tinted windows. No license plates. It stopped right in front of us, blocking the driveway. The passenger window rolled down slow.
A man in a dark suit stared straight at me. Then he held up a photo—of Sarah playing in our backyard, taken just three days earlier. He mouthed three words: We know where she is.
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