THE BOY BENEATH THE FLOORBOARDS

The old logging mill on Route 9 had been abandoned for two decades. It sat deep in the Appalachian woods, surrounded by rotting timber and rusted machinery.

The sun was beginning to set, casting long, menacing shadows across the gravel driveway as I pulled my truck to a stop.

I looked at Meredith. "Stay here with Lily. Lock the doors. If I'm not back in twenty minutes, drive to the nearest state police barracks and tell them everything."

"Caleb, I'm so sorry," Meredith whispered, her face pale and streaked with mascara.

"Save it," I said.

I stepped out of the truck. The air was thick with the smell of pine and decay.

I didn't have a gun. I had the heavy iron fire poker from Meredith's living room, tucked down the side of my jeans, and the silver pocket watch in my hand.

I walked toward the massive, open doors of the main warehouse. Inside, the cavernous space was lit by the headlights of Sheriff Miller's cruiser.

Sitting on the hood of the car, looking terrifyingly small, was Noah.

He was pale, his hair longer than I remembered, wearing clothes that were a size too big. His eyes were wide and glazed, a byproduct of whatever Greg had been feeding him.

"Noah!" I yelled, breaking into a run.

"Stop right there, Caleb."

Sheriff Miller stepped out from behind the cruiser, his service weapon drawn and aimed directly at my chest.

I froze, fifty feet away. My eyes locked on my son.

"Daddy?" Noah's voice was a frail whisper, breaking through the silence of the mill. It was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.

"I'm right here, buddy," I said, forcing my voice to remain calm. I looked at Miller. "Where is Caroline?"

Miller gestured with his head toward the back seat of the cruiser. Through the window, I saw my wife. Her hands were zip-tied behind her back, her mouth taped, but she was alive. Her eyes met mine, filled with terror but also an unmistakable, fierce resolve.

"Let them go, Miller," I said, taking a slow step forward. "You have what you want. My parents will sign the land over. Just let them walk away."

"It's a little too late for paperwork, Caleb," Miller sighed, adjusting his grip on the gun. "Greg made a mess. He called me in a panic, said you found the room. I had to intercept him on the road. Greg isn't going to be a problem anymore."

A chill ran down my spine. Greg was dead.

"And unfortunately," Miller continued, his eyes dead and cold. "Neither are you. This ends with a tragic murder-suicide. The grief of a missing child finally broke you. You killed your wife, and then yourself."

He raised the gun, pointing it at my face.

"Say goodbye to your boy, Caleb."

I didn't close my eyes. I gripped the silver pocket watch in my palm.

I cocked my arm back and threw the heavy silver watch as hard as I could, directly at the cruiser's headlight.