Chapter 6 - The Burned Cabin
I let go of Daniel's suit, stumbling backward as the sheer weight of his deception crushed me.
Carter grabbed Daniel by the throat, slamming him hard against the curved wall of the airplane cabin.
He pressed the barrel of his gun under Daniel's chin, demanding the actual location of my daughter.
Daniel choked, his arrogant smile finally faltering under the threat of immediate death.
He gasped out that Lily was being held at his family's secluded hunting cabin in the Appalachian Mountains.
Airport security heavily armed with assault rifles began swarming the steps of the private jet.
Carter flashed his military credentials, shouting that Daniel was a high-level federal fugitive and ordering them to detain him.
We sprinted back to the battered SUV, leaving Daniel in the custody of confused local authorities.
The drive to the mountains took three agonizing hours of silent, terrifying anticipation.
I stared out the window into the pitch-black wilderness, praying I was not too late.
The GPS finally directed us down a narrow, unpaved logging road thick with overgrown pine trees.
As we rounded the final curve, a bright orange glow illuminated the night sky.
My heart completely stopped beating.
The massive wooden cabin was entirely engulfed in a raging, roaring inferno.
I threw the car door open before Carter even put the vehicle in park.
I ran toward the blazing structure, screaming Lily's name until my vocal cords physically tore.
The heat was absolute agony, blistering the skin on my face and pushing me back.
Carter tackled me to the ground just as the heavy wooden roof collapsed inward, sending a pillar of sparks into the sky.
I fought against him, weeping hysterically and trying to crawl toward the flames.
Carter held me down, shouting that the fire was burning far too hot for anyone to be alive inside.
Suddenly, a loud, cracking noise drew our attention to the treeline behind the cabin.
Carter drew his weapon and cautiously approached the burning brush.
He found a body lying face down in the dirt, severely burned but still breathing shallowly.
Carter rolled the man over, and I gasped in sheer shock.
It was not Lily, nor was it Patricia or Daniel.
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It was Judge Richard Hanley, the man who had ripped my custody rights away that very morning.
His judicial robes were singed, and he was clutching a small, blood-stained piece of paper in his trembling hand.
