Page 42 of Ruthless Possession
I shake my head. "One more section. Please."
Trenton exchanges a look with Matthew in the rearview mirror. They're exhausted, we all are, but they don't protest. Instead, Trenton turns the truck down a narrow dirt road I don't recognize from our previous searches.
"Greyson said the rangers use this path for maintenance," he explains. "Leads to a few cabins that aren't on the main maps."
Hope flickers in my chest. "He would choose somewhere remote. Somewhere no one would think to look."
The road narrows further, branches scraping against the truck's sides. In the fading light, the forest takes on a menacing quality, shadows stretching between the trees like grasping fingers.
"There." Matthew points to a break in the trees. "Looks like a driveway."
Trenton slows, turning the truck down what appears to be little more than a deer path. We bump along for what feels like miles before a small cabin comes into view, a simple structure of weathered wood, barely visible in the encroaching darkness.
"Lights are on," I whisper, noting the soft glow from the windows.
Trenton kills the engine but leaves the headlights on, illuminating the cabin's front door. He reaches for the gun at his hip, his movements precise and controlled.
"Stay here," he tells me, his voice leaving no room for argument.
I watch as they approach the cabin, moving in tandem like they've done this a thousand times before. Matthew goes to the left, Trenton to the right. I count silently in my head, my jaw clenched so tight my teeth ache.
The front door opens without resistance. I see Trenton disappear inside, his gun raised. Matthew follows, his silhouette framed in the doorway for just a moment before he, too, vanishes into the cabin's interior.
Time stretches. I grip the edge of my seat, every instinct screaming at me to follow them. But I promised I'd stay put, and for once, I keep my promise.
Then I see movement. A figure emerges from the cabin, small, slight. A child's shape. My breath catches as Trenton appears behind her, his hand on her shoulder, guiding her toward the truck.
It's Charlie.
I'm out of the vehicle before I can think, running toward them across the uneven ground. Charlie looks up as I approach, her face pale but alert.
"Ms. Morgan!" She breaks away from Trenton, throwing herself into my arms. "Daddy said you'd come!"
I hold her tight, feeling her small body tremble against mine. "Charlie, are you okay? Did he hurt you?"
She shakes her head, her dark brown hair catching the headlights. "He said I had to wait here. That you'd take care of me."
I exchange a look with Trenton over her head. "Where is he, Charlie?"
"Gone," she whispers. "He left this morning."
Matthew appears from the cabin, his expression grim. "He left a note."
I take the folded paper he offers, my hands unsteady. The handwriting is neat, precise, nothing like the erratic scrawl I would have expected.
Morgan, it begins. Take care of our daughter. I'll be back for both of you soon.
My stomach turns. "Our daughter," I repeat, each word sitting wrong in my mouth. "He thinks?—"
"He's delusional," Trenton finishes, his voice hard. "But we have Charlie now. That's what matters."
I look down at the little girl still clinging to my waist. She seems unharmed, but the haunted look in her eyes tells me she's seen things no child should witness.
"We need to get her to the hospital," I say. "Have her checked out."
Matthew is already on his phone, calling ahead to let the authorities know we've found her. As we bundle Charlie into the truck, I catch movement in the trees, headlights approaching from the main road.
"Greyson's here," Trenton confirms, noting the approaching vehicles. "With reinforcements."
