Chapter 75 - The Cabin by the Weir
The roar of the weir grew louder, drowning out the whistle of the mountain wind. Through the screen of skeletal willow branches, the outline of the old log cabin materialized against the gray churn of the river. A single kerosene lantern flickered behind a cracked windowpane, throwing long, trembling shadows across the rotting front porch.
Parked beside the sagging shed was an unmarked brown sedan with out-of-state plates, its engine ticking faintly as it cooled in the damp air.
I moved along the perimeter of the clearing, keeping low beneath the rhododendron bushes. The front door was slightly ajar, secured only by an iron latch that hung loose on a single screw. From within the cabin, voices drifted out, carrying the muffled urgency of a panicked argument.
"You said she was just supposed to hold the papers!" a woman’s voice shrilled—a voice that had haunted my entire life, high-pitched, brittle, and laden with petulance. Melissa. "You never told me mother was bringing the girl out here into the wet! If the state police trace the car to my name, I'm the one who goes to prison, Greg!"
"Shut your mouth, Melissa," a man’s harsh voice answered from the back room. "Your mother promised fifty thousand dollars in cashier's checks the second Nora surrenders the property lines. You wanted your debts paid, didn't you? You wanted the lien on your house cleared? Then stop whining and tie the door shut."
"She’s shivering, Greg! Look at her lips, they’re blue!"
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My blood turned to molten iron. Melissa was here. Not as a bystander, not as an unwitting victim of Evelyn’s schemes, but as a willing conspirator bargaining away the child she had abandoned nine years ago.
I pushed against the rear porch frame, finding the rotting service door that led into the cold-storage larder. With a firm, steady shove, the rusted hinges gave way with barely a sigh against the roar of the rushing water outside.
