“If anyone finds this, tell Nathan I’m alive. I need help. But I can’t go back. They’re still watching me.”
The world tilted. Nathan grabbed the edge of a broken crate to keep from collapsing.
“So… it’s true,” Aiden murmured. “She’s really alive.”
Nathan pressed the note to his chest. Tears he’d sworn would never fall again burned at the corners of his eyes.
Somewhere, for two long years, his wife had been running for her life. And he’d kept living inside his mansion, thinking nothing more could ever be done.
That guilt would ignite everything that came next.
That night, Nathan barely spoke. He drove with Aiden and Ranger to an old, rundown gas station—the only place open on that deserted highway. He bought bread and bottled water for the boy and, while Aiden ate, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number he hadn’t called in a long time.
“Harris,” he said as soon as the voice answered. “I need you to reopen my wife’s case.”
“Cole?” came the annoyed reply. “It’s two in the morning. That case is closed and buried.”
“She’s alive,” Nathan cut in. “I have her note. I found Ranger. I found her scarf. Someone tampered with everything.”
There was a long silence.