Chapter 8: The Cabin No One Knew About
The Richard family cabin was deep in the northern woods, an hour from the nearest town, no cell service, no neighbors for miles. Melissa had only mentioned it once or twice, saying it was "too run down to use."
We drove there in silence, every turn making my chest tighter. When we rounded the last bend, Roger’s old pickup was parked out front. Warm yellow light glowed through the kitchen window.
We didn’t knock. We kicked the door in.
Roger stood by the fireplace, holding Sarah’s arm tight. She was pale, face streaked with silent tears. Melissa was already there, standing between them, looking like she didn’t know which way to run. In Roger’s other hand: a gun, pointed straight at the floor.
"Get out," he said, voice cold as the woods outside. "This doesn’t concern you."
"She’s my daughter!" I yelled, stepping forward.
"She’s a witness," he snapped. "And witnesses get people killed."
Chris moved slow, hands up where Roger could see them. "Put the gun down, Roger. No one has to get hurt. Just give her back. We can fix this."
Roger laughed, sharp and bitter. "You think you can fix thirty years of mistakes? You have no idea what I’ve been protecting this family from."
He walked over to a dented metal desk in the corner, pulled out a thick manila folder, and tossed it on the table.
"Read it," he said. "And then tell me I was wrong."
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