Chapter 298 Chapter 298
Chapter 298 Chapter 298
Chapter 298
Maria dropped the landline receiver back onto its base, standing frozen in total shock. Her hands were shaking so violently that the plastic handset rattled against the cradle. Isabelle and Ariana sat on the velvet sofa, monitoring the way Maria’s mouth remained left slightly ajar, her pale face suddenly flushed with a mixture of overwhelming relief and panic.
"He just called me," Maria gasped, her voice breaking as she pointed a trembling hand toward the telephone. "My son is alive! He is here! He made it back to Monterey! Get me my son!"
Isabelle and Ariana exchanged quick, startled looks. Isabelle immediately scrambled off the sofa, running over to the house telephone to inspect the small digital caller ID screen. A local business string was listed alongside a ten-digit number, reading the name of a private fuel supply service located on the outer border of the county.
Agent Miller came rushing into the sitting room from the hallway, her federal badge clicking against her belt as she took in Maria’s panicked state. "What happened? Who was on the line?"
"It was Ethan," Isabelle said quickly, pointing down at the caller ID display. "He called from a public payphone outside an old gas station on the edge of town."
Maria snatched the receiver back up, desperately trying to dial the local gas station number back, but the line gave off a continuous busy signal before dropping completely. "It’s not going through!" Maria cried, tears brimming in her eyes. "Why won't it connect?"
"I'll handle this," Agent Miller said, stepping firmly between Maria and the phone. "We need to get him here safely. Maria, put the phone down. If Richard or anyone else is tapping official lines, calling back repeatedly will trace his position faster."
"I am going to track this location down right now," Agent Miller continued, moving over to the coffee table. "He is not meant to be seen out in the open around here. He is in big danger if Richard's men or the press spot him first."
Agent Miller set her laptop down on the glass table, opening up her federal tracing software and manually inputting the ten-digit landline string from the caller ID. Within seconds, a detailed satellite map zoomed in on a lonely stretch of highway miles away from the main district.
"This is out of the city," Agent Miller said, tapping the screen as the red location pin locked in place. "It's near an old service route on the outskirts. Grab your coats. We need to go get him here safely before anyone else realizes he's on American soil."
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Miles away on the quiet outskirts of Monterey, Ethan sat on a rusted metal crate hidden behind a massive, abandoned commercial flatbed truck parked near the edge of the gas station lot. The evening air was chilly, making his teeth chatter slightly as he pulled his light jacket tighter around his chest. Every few minutes, a sharp throb shot up his right thigh, reminding him of the bandaged gunshot wound beneath his torn trousers. He leaned heavily against his carved oak walking stick, resting his chin on his hands as he stared down at the oil-stained pavement.
He knew his mother would come for him. He knew she would, but leaving his current spot to wander into the city on foot would be complete suicide. Staying hidden behind the rusted truck was his best option, even as the pain in his leg grew worse by the minute.
Suddenly, the gravel near the side of the station building crunched under footsteps. Ethan instinctively pulled his walking stick closer, ducking his head low behind the rear tire of the truck.
Two teenage girls carrying plastic shopping bags walked around the corner from the station's side entrance, chatting loudly on their phones. As they cut behind the abandoned vehicle to reach the sidewalk, one of them caught sight of Ethan sitting in the shadows. She stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth dropping open in total shock. Her friend bumped into her shoulder, looking over to see what had caught her attention.
The two girls stared directly at Ethan, their eyes wide with terror as they recognized his face from every major news channel and social media feed over the last forty-eight hours. They began to panic immediately, stepping backward in unison and whispering frantically among themselves.
"Isn't he dead?" one girl asked, her voice high and trembling as she pointed a shaking finger toward him.
"Yes! I'm sure Ethan Castellan was announced dead!" her friend whispered back, pulling her arm in terror. "Girl, I'm scared! That fucking looks like him! Let's run!"
"He's trying to hide, girl!" the first one said, taking two fast steps backward toward the main road. "Did we just see a ghost?"
Before Ethan could even raise a hand or say a word to calm them down, both girls turned around and sprinted down the street as fast as they could, constantly looking back over their shoulders at Ethan in sheer horror before disappearing around the corner.
Ethan closed his eyes, taking a slow breath as he gripped his wooden stick tighter. He knew it was only a matter of minutes before those girls posted about seeing him online or called the local police. Time was running out fast. He pushed himself up onto his good foot, straining his ears as he listened for the sound of an approaching engine down the dark highway.