Page 57 of In Her Path

“How long would it take to get there?” Jake asked.

"Half an hour, maybe a little more. It's up past Miller's Ridge, off the main highway. Last couple of miles are unpaved."

“Could county cops get there faster? Or the highway patrol?”

“Not unless they’re already on the way. And it’s not easy to find.”

The room fell silent. Jenna could feel the seconds ticking away—and she felt certain that Piper’s revelation was right. “We need to go,” she said. “Now.”

She turned to Officer Quinn and his partner, who had been standing by the door. “Stay here and secure the scene. Check every inch of the house and document anything that seems odd. But first, call Colonel Spelling—tell him we’re pursuing a lead on the Mayor’s location—Harlan Soll’s old house. He’ll be able to find its location and meet us there.”

The officers were already pulling out phones and evidence markers.

“Let’s move,” Jenna said to her team.

They filed out of the house in tense silence, Jenna’s mind racing through scenarios.

If Meredith has Claire …

… if she’s already killed her...

She pushed the thoughts away. They weren’t too late. They couldn’t be.

They hurried to the patrol car and Jake took the wheel again while Frank took the passenger seat. Jenna and Piper climbed into the back. Jake hit the lights and siren as they pulled away from the curb, the wail cutting through the quiet morning.

“North on County Road 12,” Frank directed. “Then east at the junction with Pine Ridge.”

Jake nodded, accelerating through a yellow light. The storefronts of downtown Trentville blurred past—the pharmacy, the hardware store, the diner where the morning coffee crowd had gathered at the windows to watch their departure. Jenna caught the flash of recognition on several faces—the sheriff’s car moving at high speed with siren going was never a good sign.

“She’s still alive,” Piper spoke suddenly. “But not for long. The killer is going to silence her, too.”

“We’ll make it in time,” Jenna replied, though she wasn’t sure if she was reassuring Piper or herself. “We have to.”

They hit the edge of town, the buildings giving way to scattered houses and then to open countryside. Jake pushed the cruiser faster, the speedometer climbing past seventy on the straight stretches. The radio crackled with updates—Spelling had been notified, additional units were being dispatched, but their cruiser was closest. They would be the first to arrive.

“The turn’s coming up,” Frank said. “About a mile ahead. Road won’t be marked—just a break in the tree line. It’s best to turn off the lights and siren now. We don’t want to announce ourselves.”

Jake did as Frank told him, scanning the roadside, looking for the gap. The trees pressed close on either side of the highway, a solid wall of green broken only by the occasional driveway or service road.

“There,” Frank said suddenly, pointing. “That’s it.”

Jake hit the brakes, swinging the wheel hard. The cruiser skidded onto a narrow dirt track barely wide enough for a single vehicle. Branches scraped against the sides of the car as they bounced over ruts and potholes, the suspension groaning with each impact.

“How much farther?” Jenna asked, one hand roof.

“Another two miles, maybe,” Frank replied. “Road gets worse before it gets better.”

The trees thinned slightly, revealing glimpses of a rocky hillside to their right. The road narrowed further, forcing Jake to slow their pace. Around a sharp bend, the track opened suddenly into a small clearing.

And there it was—Harlan Soll’s house. A squat, weathered structure with a sagging porch and windows like vacant eyes. No car sat in the dirt yard. No movement showed at the windows. But as they pulled to a stop, Jenna felt that they had reached the right place.

“We’re here,” she said quietly. “Now we just need to find Claire.”

*

The rough cloth slipped from Claire’s chin as Meredith yanked the gag free. Claire worked her jaw, desperate to restore feeling to her numbed tongue. The damp air in the storm cellar filled her lungs. Her legs had gone numb from her perch on the wooden stool, wrists bound behind her back, shoulders screaming from being forced into the same position for what felt like an eternity.

Meredith stepped back into the dim light that was cast by the battery-powered lantern. Her face was composed, almost peaceful, as if they were having a casual conversation over coffee rather than standing in this underground room where Claire knew, with terrible certainty, she was meant to die.