Chapter 7
The search lasted all night.
Dozens of officers with flashlights combed the cornfields up and down the runway. A helicopter circled overhead, its spotlight cutting through the dark. Roadblocks were set up on every highway and back road within a hundred miles. Every car was stopped, every trunk searched, every driver questioned.
Nothing.
No sign of Michael. No sign of Jake.
At five in the morning, I was sitting in the back of a police car, wrapped in a blanket, drinking coffee that had gone cold hours before. Jake’s T-Rex was still in my lap. I hadn’t let go of it once. Dad was standing outside the car, talking to Carter, his face drawn with exhaustion. Mia had shown up an hour before, bringing me water and a sandwich, even though I couldn’t eat. She kept apologizing, saying it was her fault, that she should’ve told me about the decoy flight earlier. I told her it wasn’t. It was mine.
Then Carter’s phone rang.
He answered it, talked for a minute, then hung up and walked over to the car. He had a piece of paper in his hand.
“Mia,” he said. “You said Michael had a hunting cabin? Up in the hills west of town?”
Mia nodded. “He mentioned it once. Said he went there to get away. Never told me where exactly. Just said it was off the grid. No electricity. No running water. No address.”
Carter held up the paper.
“We got a hit on Michael’s credit card. Two days ago, he bought two sleeping bags, a week’s worth of non-perishable food, a first aid kit, and a five-gallon jug of water at the hardware store in Millfield. Millfield is twenty miles west of here. Right at the base of the hills.”
Dad leaned forward. “You think he’s there?”
“It’s the only lead we have,” Carter said. “The cabin’s not on any official maps. But I talked to an old game warden who’s been patrolling those hills for thirty years. He says there are a dozen old hunting cabins up there. Most of them abandoned. He gave me rough directions to the ones that are still standing. We’re gonna head up there now. With SWAT. Just in case.”
“I’m coming,” I said, throwing the blanket off and opening the car door.
“Emma,” Dad said. “It’s too dangerous. If Michael’s there, he’s desperate. He has Jake. He has a gun—you know he does. Let the police handle it.”
“I don’t care,” I said. “That’s my son up there. I’m not waiting down here while someone else rescues him. I’m coming. Or I’m gonna follow you up there myself in your truck. Either way, I’m going.”
Dad looked at Carter. Carter nodded.
“Fine,” Carter said. “But you stay behind us. You do exactly what I say. If I tell you to get down, you get down. If I tell you to run, you run. No arguments. Deal?”
“Deal,” I said.
Thirty minutes later, we were driving up a dirt road into the hills. Two SWAT vans led the way, lights off, followed by Carter’s unmarked car, then Dad’s truck. The road was narrow, bumpy, lined with pine trees and brush. The sun was just starting to come up, painting the treetops pink and gold. It was beautiful. It felt wrong to be somewhere so beautiful when my son was scared and hurt somewhere nearby.
Mia had stayed behind to wait at the base of the hills, just in case Michael tried to come down that way. I was with Carter in his car. Dad was right behind us.
“Almost there,” Carter said, checking the game warden’s directions. “The first cabin is half a mile up. We’ll clear them one by one.”
We rounded a bend.
The first cabin came into view. It was small, made of logs, a broken-down pickup truck parked outside. The windows were boarded up. No smoke coming from the chimney. No sign of life.
SWAT surrounded the cabin, guns up. One officer kicked the door in. They went in, cleared it room by room. Came out a minute later, shaking their heads. Empty. Abandoned for years.
We moved on to the next cabin.
And the next.
Five cabins. All empty. All abandoned.
By the ninth cabin, I was starting to lose hope. My throat was tight, my eyes burning with unshed tears. What if we were wrong? What if Michael wasn’t up here at all? What if he was already across the border? What if Jake was—
I didn’t let myself finish the thought.
Then we rounded another bend.
The tenth cabin was at the end of the road, tucked back in the trees, far from any other. It was bigger than the others. A new-looking truck was parked outside—stolen, Carter said, plates removed. Smoke was coming from the chimney. A light was on in the front window.
And then I heard it.
A small scream.
Jake’s scream.
“Mom!”
I was out of the car before Carter could stop me. I ran toward the cabin, my boots crunching on the gravel. Carter yelled after me, Dad right on my heels, SWAT moving in fast behind us.
The front door was locked.
Dad didn’t hesitate. He reared back and kicked the door as hard as he could. The wood splintered. He kicked it again. The lock broke. The door flew open.
We ran inside.
The main room was small, lit by a kerosene lamp on the table. The smell of wood smoke and pine filled the air. And there, in the middle of the room, was Michael.
He was holding Jake tight against his chest. One arm was wrapped around Jake’s waist. The other was holding a knife to Jake’s throat.
Jake was crying, his face red, his hands clutching Michael’s arm. He saw me and screamed again.
“Mom!”
“Stop right there!” Michael yelled, pressing the knife harder against Jake’s skin. A small drop of blood welled up. “One more step and I’ll kill him. I swear to God I will.”
I froze. Dad froze. Carter and the SWAT officers stopped in the doorway, guns raised.
“Michael,” Carter said, his voice calm, steady. “Put the knife down. Let the boy go. It’s over. There’s nowhere to run. We have the cabin surrounded. You come out now, no one gets hurt. We can talk about this.”
“Talk?” Michael laughed, the sound sharp, crazy. “I don’t wanna talk. I lost everything. My wife. My son. My life. All because of her.” He nodded at me, his eyes wild. “She took it all. And now I’m gonna take what’s mine. And then I’m gonna end it. All of it.”
“Michael, please,” I said, my voice shaking. I held my hands up, slow, like I was calming a wild animal. “Don’t hurt him. He’s your son. You love him. I know you do. Let him go. Take me instead. Do whatever you want to me. Just let him go.”
Michael looked at me. For a second, I thought I saw something in his eyes—regret, maybe, or sadness. The man I’d fallen in love with, all those years ago. But it was gone as fast as it came. His face hardened again.
“You think I want you?” he said. “You’re nothing to me. Just a lying, cheating whore who turned my own son against me. But him?” He squeezed Jake tighter. “He’s mine. My blood. My legacy. If I can’t raise him, no one can. We’ll go out together. Father and son. Just like it was always supposed to be.”
Jake whimpered. “Mommy, I’m scared.”
“I know, baby,” I said, tears running down my face. “I know. It’s gonna be okay. Mommy’s here. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”
I took a small step forward.
Michael pressed the knife harder. “Don’t!”
“Remember when we first met?” I said, keeping my voice soft, steady. I took another step. “At the diner. You spilled coffee on my shirt. You were so embarrassed. You offered to buy me a new one. We ended up talking for three hours. You told me you wanted to be a mechanic. That you wanted a big family, a house with a yard, a dog. Remember?”
Michael’s grip on the knife loosened just a little.
“Remember when Jake was born?” I said, another step. “You cried when you held him for the first time. You said he was the best thing that ever happened to you. You promised you’d always protect him. Always keep him safe. You promised, Michael.”
Tears ran down Michael’s face. The knife shook in his hand.
“I was trying to protect him,” he whispered. “From you. From the way you were turning him against me.”
“I wasn’t turning him against you,” I said. I was only a few feet away from him now. I could see the exhaustion in his face, the fear, the madness. “He was scared. Just like I was. We both were. But it doesn’t have to be this way. You can still make it right. Put the knife down. Let Jake go. And we can all go home. We can get you help. The help you need. Please, Michael. For Jake. For the boy you held the day he was born. For the man you used to be.”
Michael looked down at Jake.
Jake looked up at him, his small face streaked with tears.
“Daddy,” he whispered. “Please don’t hurt me. I love you.”
Something in Michael broke.
He let out a sob. The knife slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor. His arm fell away from Jake’s waist.
“Go,” he whispered to Jake. “Go to your mom.”
Jake didn’t have to be told twice. He ran to me, throwing himself into my arms. I held him so tight I thought I might crush him, kissing his face, his hair, the small cut on his neck where the knife had been. He was okay. He was alive. He was mine.
SWAT moved in fast. They tackled Michael to the floor, cuffed his hands behind his back. He didn’t fight. He just lay there, sobbing, as they pulled him to his feet and led him outside.
Dad came over and wrapped his arms around both of us. We stood there for a long time, in the middle of that cabin, holding each other, as the sun came up fully over the hills.
Carter walked over a few minutes later. His face was pale.
“Emma,” he said. “We found something. In Michael’s duffel bag. Papers. About the car theft ring. The robberies. Who he’s been working with.”
May you like
He held up a piece of paper.
“The ringleader,” he said. “The guy who’s been running everything. The one Michael’s been taking orders from this whole time. It’s your brother, Emma. It’s Tyler.”
