CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
The truck rattled down the back roads at dangerous speed.
Hank kept checking the mirrors. Looking for pursuit. So far nothing. But it wouldn't take long for Vincent's men to get vehicles and come after us.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"The cabin. Where we left Jim and Maddie."
"That was before we got captured. Vincent might know about it now."
"Then where do you suggest?"
I didn't have an answer. Every safe place we'd found had turned dangerous. Every person we'd trusted had been threatened or hurt.
"We need help," I said. "Real help. Police. FBI. Someone."
"And tell them what? That the local crime boss is holding people prisoner? That his brother faked his death five years ago?" Hank shook his head. "We need evidence. Proof they can't ignore."
I leaned back against the seat. We were back to nothing. No evidence but a copy of Sarah’s container they can easily destroy. No allies. Just two people running from an enemy with unlimited resources.
My hand throbbed where Vincent had cut me. My whole body ached from the running and climbing. I was exhausted. Scared. And getting angry.
"This isn't working," I said.
"What isn't?"
"Running. Hiding. Hoping Vincent gives up." I turned to look at him. "He's not going to give up. Not until we're dead or he's stopped."
"What are you suggesting?"
"I'm suggesting we stop running. We go on offense instead of defense."
"How?"
I thought about it. About everything we knew. Everything Vincent had revealed while we were his prisoners.
"The festival," I said. "He still needs to make his move today. Control the narrative. Show the other crime families he's in charge."
"And?"
"And what if we show up at the festival? Tell our story publicly. In front of cameras and witnesses."
"Vincent will have people there. They'll kill us before we can say a word."
"Not if we're smart about it. Not if we have protection."
"What protection?"
"I don't know yet. But there has to be someone in this town who isn't on Vincent's payroll. Someone who'll believe us."
Hank was quiet for a moment. Thinking. Then he said something that surprised me.
"Jim. The newspaper editor. He's still at the cabin as far as we know. He has media contacts. People outside Vincent's reach."
"Can we trust them?"
"We don't have much choice."
He turned the truck onto a narrow dirt road. Heading into the forest toward the cabin.
I kept watching the road behind us. Looking for headlights. For any sign we'd been followed.
Nothing yet. But that didn't mean we were safe.
"Elise," Hank said. "About what you said back at the fishing shack. About not wanting a life without me."
"Now's really not the time for that conversation."
"I know. But I need you to understand something." He glanced at me. "When this is over, if we survive, I'm not going to disappear again. I'm not going to fake my death and run. Whatever happens, we face it together."
The words made my chest tight. In a good way.
"Together," I repeated.
"Together."
The cabin appeared through the trees. Still standing. No obvious signs of trouble.
But something felt wrong.
"Wait here," Hank said.
"No way. We stay together, remember?"
He looked like he wanted to argue. Then he nodded.
We approached the cabin carefully. Staying low. Using trees for cover.
The front door was open. That was the first bad sign.
The second was the silence. No voices. No movement.
We crept closer. Hank had the fishing knife ready. I picked up a heavy branch from the ground.
The inside of the cabin had been torn apart. Furniture overturned. Papers scattered everywhere. Jim's laptop smashed on the floor.
But no bodies. No blood.
"They were here," I said quietly. "Vincent's men found them."
Hank moved through the cabin. Checking each room. Looking for clues about what happened.
In the kitchen, he found something. A note. Written in Jim's handwriting.
Taken to the marina. Vincent wants an exchange. You for them. Come alone or they die. Sunset tonight.
I read it twice. My hands were shaking.
"It's a trap," Hank said.
"Of course it's a trap." I set the note down. "But what choice do we have?"
"We don't go. We will find another way to help them."
"What other way? Vincent has my mother. Has Jim and Maddie. Probably still has those three girls too. If we don't show up, he'll kill them all."
"And if we do show up, he'll kill all of us."
"Maybe. Or maybe we can turn his trap against him."
Hank looked at me. "How?"
An idea was forming. Dangerous. Probably insane. But it was all we had.
"The festival ends at sunset," I said. "Right when Vincent wants us at the marina. That's not a coincidence."
"He wants everyone to focus on the festival. Nobody is watching the marina."
"Exactly. So we give him what he wants. We show up at the marina. But not alone."
"Who do we bring?"
"Everyone. Every person in this town has a camera phone. Every tourist who came for the festival. We make it the most public meeting possible."
"Vincent won't negotiate with an audience."
"That's the point. We force him to either let everyone go in front of witnesses, or reveal himself as the criminal he is. Either way, his cover is blown."
Hank was thinking. Working through the plan. Looking for holes.
"It's risky," he said finally.
"Everything we've done has been risky."
"If it goes wrong—"
"If it goes wrong, at least we'll have tried. At least we'll have fought back."
He squeezed my hand.
We started planning. Working out the details. How to draw a crowd to the marina. How to protect ourselves while confronting Vincent. How to make sure our story got out even if we didn't survive.
It wasn't a perfect plan. Hell, it barely qualified as a plan at all.
But it was what we had.
And in a few hours, we'd find out if it was enough.