Chapter 80 - The Gathering at Dawn
The mist began to thin as the first gray light of dawn broke over the ridgeline, turning the Blackwood Creek into a ribbon of molten lead. Outside the cabin, heavily armed officers moved in a tight perimeter, their weapons lowered only after the young mechanic stepped forward from the passenger seat of the lead cruiser, waving his arms to signal that we were safe.
Melissa and Greg were escorted out in plastic zip-ties, Melissa weeping hysterically, her designer heels sinking inches deep into the river silt as two female troopers led her toward the back of a squad car. Greg said nothing, his gaze fixed on the ground, his face pale and sunken.
I held Lily wrapped in an emergency wool blanket, sitting on the open tailgate of the mechanic's truck while a paramedic checked her pulse and wrapped a warming pack around her cold feet.
"Core temperature is slightly low, but she's remarkably stable," the medic said, offering Lily a warm cup of sweet tea. "She’s a tough little girl."
"She’s a Van Der Bilt," the mechanic muttered, leaning against the side panel, lighting a cigarette with a flick of his lighter. "Or at least, she's the one who should have owned this whole mountain forty years ago."
Just then, a sleek black town car crested the rise of the dirt road, escorted by two county sheriff vehicles. The car came to an abrupt halt fifty paces away, beside the old iron gate of the logging road.
May you like
The rear door opened slowly. Evelyn stepped out, supported by an officer, her face pale as carved marble beneath her dark veil. Her silver-tipped cane was gone, confiscated as evidence from the sanctuary floor.
She did not look at Melissa. She did not look at Greg. Her gaze locked straight onto Lily and me, burning with a cold, aristocratic hatred that years of privilege had preserved like poison in an antique bottle.
