Chapter 2 - THE SOUND OF_SIRENS

The hospital discharged me under the cover of darkness. Detective Miller had arranged for an unmarked car to take Emily and me to a safehouse. But I knew Richard's reach. He had private investigators on retainer who made the local police look like amateurs. A police-sanctioned safehouse wouldn't be safe for long.

Instead, we drove to a place Richard didn't know existed—a small, off-the-grid cabin in the deep woods of the Cascade Mountains, left to Emily by our late grandfather. It had no internet, barely any cell service, and was accessible only by a winding, unpaved logging road.

For the first few weeks, the isolation was a blessing. I spent my days resting on the worn corduroy sofa, staring out the window at the towering pine trees, feeling the baby kick against my palms. His movements were stronger now, a constant reassurance that we were both healing.

Emily drove down to the nearest town, an hour away, once a week for groceries and to check in with Detective Miller from a burner phone. The news was never good.

"Richard's legal team is filing motion after motion," Emily reported one rainy Tuesday, unpacking canned goods into the tiny pantry. "They're trying to get the audio thrown out. They've frozen all your joint bank accounts. They even sent someone to Claire's workplace to intimidate her. She's terrified, Sarah."

I closed my eyes, guilt gnawing at my insides. "I brought this on all of you."

"Stop that," Emily snapped, slamming a can of soup onto the counter. She walked over and knelt beside the sofa, her eyes fierce. "He did this. Not you. You survived. We are going to survive."

But the paranoia was beginning to take its toll. Every snapping branch outside the cabin sounded like a footstep. Every howl of the wind sounded like a car engine. I slept with a heavy cast-iron fireplace poker next to my bed, waking up in cold sweats, dreaming of the wet, suffocating earth pressing against my chest.

The illusion of safety shattered on a Tuesday night, exactly four weeks after the garden.

A massive thunderstorm had rolled over the mountains, lashing the cabin with torrential rain and violent claps of thunder. The power had flickered and died hours ago. We were sitting by the light of a kerosene lamp, playing a quiet game of cards, when the dogs in the distant neighboring property started barking frantically.

Then, they suddenly stopped. The silence that followed was heavier, more suffocating than the storm.

Emily and I exchanged a terrified look. She stood up, motioning for me to stay put, and crept toward the front window, peering through the crack in the heavy curtains.

A flash of lightning illuminated the driveway.

Parked at the edge of the tree line, barely visible through the driving rain, was a sleek, black SUV.

"He found us," Emily whispered, her voice trembling. "Sarah, we have to go. Now."

I struggled to my feet, the heavy weight of my late-third-trimester belly throwing me off balance. "How? How did he find us?"

"I don't know," Emily said, grabbing her car keys and a heavy flashlight. She shoved my winter coat into my arms. "It doesn't matter. We have to get to my car. If we can make it to the main road, we can lose them."

We moved toward the back door of the cabin, the floorboards creaking under our weight. Just as Emily reached for the deadbolt, the front door violently shuddered. Someone was kicking it.

"Sarah! Open the door!" Richard's voice boomed through the wood, distorted by rage and the howling wind. "You really thought you could hide my son from me?"

"Go!" Emily hissed, unlocking the back door and pushing me out into the freezing, torrential rain.

The cold hit me like a physical blow. The ground was slick with mud and dead pine needles. I slipped, falling hard onto my hands and knees, crying out as a sharp pain shot up my arm. Emily hauled me up, half-dragging me toward where her old Subaru was parked beneath a canopy of trees.

Behind us, the front door of the cabin splintered and gave way with a deafening crash. Flashlight beams cut through the darkness inside. He wasn't alone.

We reached the car. Emily fumbled with the keys, her hands shaking violently. She finally unlocked it, and I threw myself into the passenger seat, gasping for air. Emily jumped into the driver's side and turned the ignition.

The engine sputtered, whined, and died.

She turned it again. Nothing.

A figure emerged from the darkness near the front of the car. It was Richard, wearing a heavy raincoat, water streaming down his face. In his hand, he held the distributor cap from Emily's engine. He had disabled the car before breaking into the cabin.

He smiled, walking slowly toward my window.