Chapter 4 - The Cabin by the Lake
I didn't hesitate. I threw a twenty-dollar bill onto the counter, ignored the clerk's confused shout, and sprinted out the front door toward my car.
The engine roared to life, the tires spitting gravel as I tore out of the parking lot, catching sight of Elena’s battered, rusted sedan turning hard onto the county highway leading north toward the abandoned state park.
The drive was a blur of gray asphalt, frost-covered pines, and a frantic inner monologue that threatened to tear my sanity apart. Was she lying? Was this an elaborate trap? Or was my little girl actually alive, sitting just a few miles ahead of me in a rusted-out car?
Thirty minutes later, Elena’s sedan veered off the main paved road onto an overgrown logging trail, disappearing beneath a dense canopy of snow-laden pine branches. I killed my headlights, slowed my pace to avoid being heard, and crept along the tire tracks until the trees parted to reveal a dilapidated wooden cabin sitting on the edge of a frozen, gray lake.
The cabin looked abandoned, its windows covered with thick wooden planks, save for one small side window where a faint wisp of smoke curled lazily from a rusted stovepipe.
I parked fifty yards back, stepped out into the freezing wind, and drew my coat tightly around my chest.
When I reached the front porch, the wooden boards groaned under my boots. I didn't bother knocking. I grabbed the iron door handle, twisted it, and shoved the heavy oak door open.
"Elena!" I called out, stepping into the dim, dusty interior.
The room smelled of damp wood, old wool, and woodsmoke. In the center of the room, a small iron stove glowed with weak heat. Elena stood by the small kitchenette, pouring water into an aluminum pot, while Lena sat on a cot in the corner, clutching a worn-out stuffed bear.
"You shouldn't have followed us," Elena said without turning around, her voice shaking. "They have sensors on the county roads. Every time a car turns off the asphalt, an alert goes to their dispatch."
"Who, Elena?" I demanded, closing the heavy door behind me and latching the deadbolt. "Who is they?"
Elena turned slowly around, wiping her hands on her jeans. She walked over to a scarred wooden table in the center of the room and tossed down a heavy, leather-bound file folder stamped with old legal seals.
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"The men who bought your architectural firm out from under you, Jack," Elena said quietly. "The men who murdered my father. The men who own half the politicians in this state."
She tapped the folder. "Open it. You'll see why Callie had to disappear."
