Chapter 4 - THE PURSUIT ON ROUTE 7The morning fog rolled off the Virginia hills like a shroud, turning Route 7 into a narrow, twisting gauntlet of grey asphalt and looming pine trees. Grace’s station wagon roared down the highway, Robert gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity while Katherine sat in the passenger seat, her laptop open and glowing against the dim dashboard light.
"According to the GPS tracker I secretly installed in Caleb’s truck last month for insurance discounts," Katherine typed rapidly, her fingers flying across the keyboard, "he turned off the main interstate twenty minutes ago. He’s heading straight down Firethorn Lane toward Blackwood Cabin."
Grace, sitting in the back seat, leaned forward, her eyes darting between the winding road and the rearview mirror. "Does he know we found the ledger?"
"He knows Robert keeps his office unlocked," Katherine replied without breaking concentration. "He probably checked the safe an hour ago and realized his master plan was exposed. That’s why he bolted. He’s accelerating his timeline. If he can't get me to the cabin voluntarily, he’ll have to create a forced disappearance before the local authorities wake up."
Robert glanced sideways at Katherine, his voice heavy with paternal agony. "Katherine... when we reach that cabin, if Caleb has a weapon... let me handle him. He's my son. I brought this darkness into our home by covering up his mistakes when he was a boy. This is my debt to pay."
"No, Robert," Katherine said, her voice dropping into a tone that brooked no argument. "This isn't about fathers and sons anymore. This is about survival. And if Caleb tries to hurt either of us, I won't hesitate to finish what the quarry started."
As they rounded a sharp bend past the old iron bridge, the canopy of trees opened up to reveal a silver pickup truck parked off the shoulder, its hazard lights blinking rhythmically into the empty morning mist.
It was Caleb’s truck. Empty. Doors unlocked. Driver’s side window rolled down.
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Robert slammed on the brakes, sending the station wagon sliding onto the gravel shoulder with a sharp screech of rubber.
"He’s already here," Grace whispered, her hand flying to her chest. "And he’s waiting for us."
