Chapter 4 - The Cabin
We could not trust anyone in this county if the sheriff was helping my son cover up a murder.
I waited until their flashlight beams faded into the distance before moving again.
We trudged through the freezing forest for what felt like hours, guided only by the moonlight.
Eventually, the faint outline of an abandoned hunting cabin appeared through the dense pine trees.
I kicked the rotting wooden door open and carried Chloe inside the dark, dusty room.
There was a pile of dry firewood in the corner and a dusty box of matches on the table.
I started a small fire, wrapping my granddaughter in an old, moth-eaten blanket I found on a cot.
Her fever was rising to dangerous levels, and her skin felt like touching a hot stove.
I searched the cabin frantically and found an old, heavy landline phone mounted on the wall.
By some miracle, there was still a faint dial tone humming through the receiver.
I dialed the federal emergency tip line, bypassing local authorities entirely.
"FBI Chicago Field Office, how can I direct your call?" a woman answered.
I quickly explained who I was, where I was hiding, and the horrific crime my son had committed.
The woman on the phone listened quietly until I finished my desperate plea.
May you like
"You shouldn't have left the house, Evelyn," the operator whispered.
It was the exact same voice of the local dispatcher I had spoken to earlier that night.
