Chapter 6 - The Mill on the County Line
The winter storm had turned into a full-scale whiteout by the time my phone buzzed with an urgent update from Daniel. He had broken away from the police search at the Blackwood cabin once Detective Miller shared the breakthrough about the abandoned sawmill.
“Elena, I’m heading to the mill now,” Daniel’s voice crackled over a terrible cellular connection, his engine roaring in the background. “Miller told you about Clara? My father never talked about her. He always claimed she abandoned us when I was a kid. But looking at these property records… she never left. She was living in the basement apartment of that mill for years, supported by hush money from my father’s military pension.”
“Daniel, don’t go in there alone,” I pleaded, my heart hammering against my ribs. “If Richard is there, it’s a trap. He’s been setting this up for months—the skincare set, the cameras, the threats. He’s unstable.”
“He hurt our daughter, Elena,” Daniel said, his voice dropping into a cold, terrifying resolve. “No more running. No more hiding behind polite family dinners. I’m ending this tonight.”
The call disconnected with a sharp hiss of static.
Deep within the freezing, cavernous interior of the abandoned Blackwood Mill, massive iron gears hung frozen from the ceiling like giant skeletal ribs. Snow drifted through shattered multi-pane windows, coating the rotting wooden floorboards in a pristine, untouched white sheet.
Except for one set of fresh boot tracks.
Daniel stepped through the rusted double doors of the mill, his flashlight beam cutting through the swirling dust and frost. His breath plumed in the freezing air as he swept the light across the decaying machinery.
“Dad!” Daniel’s voice echoed off the concrete walls. “I know you’re here! Show yourself!”
A slow, rhythmic clapping sound echoed from the shadows of the upper loft stairs.
“I always wondered if you had your mother’s spine or mine,” Richard’s voice drifted down from the darkness, calm and unhurried.
Daniel spun around, snapping his flashlight beam upward.
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Standing on the metal landing of the staircase was Richard. But he wasn't alone. Standing slightly behind him in the shadows was a woman with wild, unkempt dark hair and a heavy winter coat, staring down at Daniel with cold, piercing eyes that mirrored Richard’s exact expression.
Clara Vance.
