Chapter 5 - THE CABIN IN THE PINES
Arthur didn’t pack a bag. He didn’t leave a note. He just grabbed his keys, took Lily’s hand, and walked past his stunned son.
“If you follow us, Daniel,” Arthur had said at the door, “I will dismantle your life before sunrise.”
Now, the tires of Arthur’s Mercedes crunched over the overgrown gravel road leading to the Blackwood cabin. The sun was setting, casting long, bruised shadows through the pine trees.
Lily sat in the passenger seat, clutching Arthur’s jacket around her like armor.
Through the windshield, the cabin emerged. The brass owl weather vane sat on the roof, just as Caroline had drawn it. But the place looked dead. There was no smoke from the chimney, no lights in the windows.
Arthur killed the engine. The silence of the woods felt heavy, pressing in on them.
“Stay in the car, Lily. Lock the doors.”
“No.” She grabbed his sleeve. “I want my mom.”
“I’m going to find her. I promise.”
Arthur stepped out into the freezing autumn air. He walked up the rotting wooden steps and pushed the front door. It wasn't locked. It swung open with a slow creak.
The inside of the cabin was dark and freezing. Arthur found a light switch, but the power was dead. He pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight.
The beam cut through the gloom, revealing chaos.
Chairs were overturned. A ceramic mug lay shattered near the fireplace. The heavy oak table had been shoved sideways, scraping deep gouges into the floorboards.
Someone had struggled here. Recently.
Arthur’s heart hammered against his ribs. “Caroline!” he called out.
Silence.
He moved further into the room. Near the overturned table, a heavy, expensive black wool coat was draped over a dining chair. Arthur touched the fabric. It was damp from the morning rain. It wasn't Daniel's coat. It was a size too large.
Arthur’s flashlight beam dropped to the floor beneath the chair.
Tangled in the rough, uneven floorboards was a silver rosary. Caroline’s rosary. The one her mother had given her before she died. Caroline never took it off.
Arthur knelt, his knees cracking, and carefully pulled the beads free. As he did, the floorboard shifted beneath his weight. It was loose.
He wedged his fingers under the wood and pulled. The board lifted, revealing a small, dark hollow space beneath the floor.
Inside sat a thick, green accounting ledger.
Arthur reached in and pulled it out. He opened it, shining his light on the pages. It wasn't filled with numbers from the Bennett Foundation. It was a diary.
May you like
The first line, written in Caroline’s desperate handwriting, made the breath vanish from Arthur’s lungs.
Dad thinks I stole the money. But I’m only running because I found out who really did. And if I stay, they will kill us both.
