Chapter 5 - the hollow by the river
The flight to Bayfield took ninety grueling minutes. The helicopter touched down in a secluded clearing near the coordinates Ivy had described—a winding river bordered by dense, jagged pines. Searchlights from two state police helicopters were already sweeping the dark forest floor, their beams cutting through the rising mist.
Daniel jumped from the cabin before the skids fully settled on the grass, accompanied by Captain Vance and a team of six tactical officers.
The smell of smoke hit them immediately.
Through the trees, the blackened skeleton of a small log cabin smoldered against the night sky. The roof had collapsed, and the ground was churned with tire tracks from heavy pickup trucks.
"Daniel, stay behind the perimeter," Vance warned, drawing his sidearm. "My guys found signs of a struggle near the old logging bridge half a mile east."
Daniel ignored the warning, pushing through the thick brush, his navy suit tearing against branches and thorns. He didn't care about protocol. He followed the trail of broken twigs and fresh footprints leading down toward the muddy embankment of the creek.
"Claire!" Daniel shouted into the darkness, his voice echoing off the limestone cliffs. "Claire!"
Only the rushing sound of water answered.
Then, near the edge of the old wooden bridge, Daniel spotted something caught in the river reeds. He lunged forward, sliding down the muddy bank on his knees.
It was a piece of fabric. A torn strip of floral cloth matching Skye's dress, tied around a tree branch as a trail marker. Claire had left signs for the children in case they had to find their way back.
A few yards further, tucked beneath the mossy overhang of the bridge's stone foundation, lay an abandoned black duffel bag. Daniel tore it open. Inside were children's books, a small photo album filled with pictures of Daniel cut out from business magazines, and a notebook filled with letters addressed to him—hundreds of them, dated across three years, never mailed.
*My darling Daniel,* the top page read in Claire's hurried, elegant script. *They found us again. Margaret’s men cut the power. If the girls reach you, know that you were our only hope. I will lead them away from the river toward the old limestone quarry. Love them for me.*
"Quarry!" Daniel yelled, scrambling up the embankment. "Vance! The limestone quarry! Sweep the southern ridge!"
The searchlights shifted immediately, focusing on the abandoned quarry two miles to the south.
Daniel sprinted back to the police SUV, jumping into the passenger seat as Vance slammed the accelerator. The vehicle tore through the rough dirt roads, mud spraying against the chassis.
Daniel’s heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his chest. Margaret had claimed she didn't know where Claire was, but Margaret’s greed and cruelty always relied on hired muscle. The men who set the fire were working on a timeline. They had to silence Claire before the girls reached civilization.
As the SUV crested the rocky ridge overlooking the deep quarry pit, a pair of headlights flashed in the distance.
A black pickup truck was parked near the edge of the sheer hundred-foot drop.
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Two men stood near the open tailgate, dragging a slender figure bound in zip ties toward the precipice. Even in the dim light, Daniel recognized the golden-brown hair, the delicate frame, and the fierce, defiant struggle of the woman fighting for her life.
"Claire!" Daniel screamed, throwing his door open before the vehicle had even completely stopped.
