Chapter 9: The Knock at Midnight
David froze, his ceramic mug halfway to his mouth. The hot water sloshed slightly over the rim, spilling onto his knuckles, but he didn't feel the heat. Adrenaline surged through his veins, tightening every muscle in his body as he looked toward the heavy wooden door.
Arthur didn't panic. He calmly set his mug down on the small table, his expression hardening into a mask of grim resolve.
"Stay here," Arthur whispered, moving toward the hallway that led to the back of the cabin. "If they found us this quickly, we have a leak in our digital footprint."
The knocking came again, louder this time, accompanied by a muffled voice calling out from the porch.
"Arthur! David! Open the door. We know you're in there!"
It wasn't a police officer or a state official. It was Rachel.
David stepped into the hallway, blocking the entrance to the bedroom where Lily was still fast asleep. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. "How did she find us?" he muttered under his breath.
Arthur stopped, pulling a small silver-plated key from his pocket and unlocking a heavy oak cabinet built into the wall. "She didn't track us. She tracked the car's toll transponder. I forgot to disable it when we left the city."
"Damn it, Arthur!" David hissed, stepping forward. "You brought her right to us!"
"Calm down," Arthur snapped back, pulling an old hunting rifle from the cabinet. He checked the chamber with a practiced click. "She's alone out there, or at least she thinks she is. She doesn't have the state troopers with her tonight."
The front door shook under a heavy shove, the old wooden frame groaning in protest. Rachel’s voice grew shrill and desperate through the thick panels.
"David, open this door right now or I swear I will call the sheriff and report you for child kidnapping! You can't hide from the law forever!"
David looked back down the dimly lit hallway. Through the cracked door of the bedroom, he could see the edge of Lily’s yellow ruffled dress resting on the floor. The thought of Rachel taking her back to that sterile, loveless house filled him with a cold, absolute fury.
He walked past Arthur, stepping directly into the main room. Without a word, he grabbed the heavy iron deadbolt and slid it open with a sharp clack.
He pulled the door open wide.
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Rachel stood on the porch, illuminated by the pale moonlight and the dim porch light. Her royal blue dress was stained with mud at the hem, her hair tangled around her face, her eyes wild and bloodshot. She looked less like an elegant socialite and more like a desperate ghost.
"Give me my daughter," Rachel demanded, her voice cracking as she tried to push past him into the cabin.
