Chapter 6 - The Safe House
I knew of only one place Mark couldn't track us.
My late father had owned a small, off-the-grid hunting cabin near Lake Tawakoni, about an hour outside of Dallas. I hadn't been there in years, and the property was still legally registered under my maiden name in a blind trust. Mark had never seen it.
Using the last of my cash, I paid the taxi driver double to take us out of the city limits.
By the time we arrived at the cabin, the sun was setting, casting long, dark shadows through the dense pine trees. The air was cold, and the silence was heavy.
I unlocked the deadbolt with a spare key hidden under the porch stairs. The cabin was dusty and smelled of old cedar, but it was safe.
“Are we camping, Mama?” Lily asked, rubbing her tired eyes as I set her down on the faded plaid sofa.
“Yes, baby. It’s an adventure,” I lied, wrapping her in a heavy quilt. Within minutes, exhausted by the day’s chaos, she fell asleep.
I paced the wooden floorboards, my mind racing. I couldn't go to the police. Mark had already framed the narrative. I had the drugged chicken and the pharmacy receipt, but no official lab report to back it up. If I walked into a precinct now, they would institutionalize me and hand Lily straight to him.
I needed a confession.
I walked into my father's old study, searching for anything I could use. My father had been an investigative journalist; he kept records of everything.
In the bottom drawer of his desk, beneath a stack of old maps, I found it.
My father’s old digital voice recorder.
I picked it up and pressed the power button. A tiny green light blinked to life. It still had battery.
I gripped the recorder tightly. I had a plan. It was reckless, and it terrified me, but I had no other choice. I had to lure Mark here, away from his carefully constructed public image, and trick him into admitting the truth on tape.
I pulled out my phone. I had turned it off to avoid GPS tracking, but now, I needed him to find me.
I powered it on. Instantly, thirty missed calls and fifty texts flooded the screen. Almost all of them were from Mark.
I ignored them and drafted a single text message to him:
I’m at my father’s cabin. I’m tired, Mark. Bring the trust transfer papers. If you promise not to call the police, I’ll sign everything over to you. I just want to rest.
I hit send.
Then, I turned the phone off again.
I spent the next hour preparing. I hid the digital recorder under a stack of old books on the coffee table, hitting record. I placed the Tupperware container with the drugged chicken prominently on the kitchen counter.
And then, I waited in the dark.
An hour and a half later, the crunch of gravel echoed outside.
Headlights swept across the front window. A black SUV idled in the driveway.
I stood up, my heart pounding in my ears. I walked to the window and peered through the blinds.
Mark stepped out of the vehicle. He wasn't accompanied by the police. He had come exactly as I knew he would—alone, greedy, and eager to secure his money.
He walked up the wooden porch steps and opened the front door.
He looked exactly the same as he had at lunch. Calm. Handsome. Terrifying.
“Hello, Sarah,” he said smoothly, stepping into the cabin and closing the door behind him. He held a leather briefcase in his left hand.
“Where are the papers?” I asked, keeping my distance.
Mark smiled, a cold, empty expression. “In the briefcase. But we have a small problem, darling.”
He reached into his coat pocket.
But he didn't pull out a pen.
He pulled out Lily’s favorite brightly colored plastic toy—the one she had been holding when she broke the plate.
“The police found your SUV abandoned,” Mark said softly. “They also found a witness at a diner who said you left Lily with a Hispanic woman matching Elena’s description before getting into a cab alone.”
May you like
My breath caught.
“You don’t have Lily, Sarah,” Mark sneered, stepping closer. “You left her behind. Now, sign the papers, or I will make sure the police find you with a self-inflicted gunshot wound.”
