Chapter 4 - The Abandoned Farmhouse
I snatched the GPS tracker from Tessa's hand and threw it onto the asphalt.
I reversed the truck, crushing the small device beneath my heavy tires until it was nothing but plastic shards.
But I knew the damage was already done.
Richard and his men would have our last known location, and it was only a matter of time before they swarmed the area.
I could not keep driving my own truck because the license plates were easily traceable.
I pulled into the parking lot of a crowded diner on the edge of the county line.
I told Tessa to stay perfectly still while I scanned the lot for an opportunity.
An older man walked out of the diner, leaving his beat-up Ford pickup idling while he checked his tires.
I felt a pang of guilt, but my children's lives were worth more than a stolen vehicle.
I threw a stack of hundred-dollar bills from my emergency stash out the window, grabbed my kids, and hijacked the idling Ford.
We drove deep into the Oklahoma countryside, far away from any major highways or traffic cameras.
My destination was an abandoned farmhouse that had belonged to my grandfather decades ago.
It was entirely off the grid, surrounded by dense woods, and practically invisible from the main road.
We arrived as the sun began to set, casting long, eerie shadows across the overgrown fields.
The house smelled of dust and rotting wood, but its thick walls provided the cover we desperately needed.
I settled Tessa and Miles on an old mattress in the living room and handed them some snacks from a gas station.
Only then did I pull Chloe's burner phone out of my pocket.
I needed to know exactly how deep this criminal conspiracy went.
I guessed the passcode on the third try, using the date of our wedding anniversary.
The irony made me sick to my stomach.
I opened the encrypted messaging app and scrolled through months of horrifying conversations.
They were not just laundering money for a political campaign.
Richard was moving millions of dollars for a ruthless international cartel, and Chloe was the primary accountant.
But as I opened the hidden photo gallery, my blood turned to absolute ice.
There was a picture of a cartel hitman holding a high-powered sniper rifle.
The photograph was taken from a distance, looking through the scope of the weapon.
The crosshairs were aimed directly at Tessa's bedroom window.
I realized with absolute horror that they had never planned to leave Tessa behind peacefully.
She was marked for death simply because she existed.
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Suddenly, the burner phone vibrated in my hand, receiving a brand new text message.
"We know where you are, Grant, and we brought a small army with us."
