Chapter 2 - The Cold RealityThe heater in the old truck roared, blasting hot air into the cabin, but Lily was still shaking violently.
"Daddy," she whimpered, her teeth chattering so hard I feared she would crack them. "It's so cold. It's so cold."
"I know, baby, I know," I said, reaching over to rub her legs through the thick wool of my coat. "I have the heat all the way up. We're going to get you warm. I promise."
I checked the rearview mirror every ten seconds. The dark, winding rural roads of Crestwood were empty, but I knew that wouldn't last. Evelyn wasn't the type to let a slight go unpunished. She would already be on the phone with Chief Miller. By now, my license plate was being broadcast to every deputy in a fifty-mile radius. I was officially a fugitive for saving my own daughter's life.
My mind raced, trying to piece together the madness. Why? Why would Taylor agree to lock our six-year-old in a freezer?
Taylor had been distant lately, sure. Ever since she got promoted at the firm and started spending more time at Evelyn's sprawling estate, she had changed. She became critical, cold, obsessed with "discipline" and "legacy." Evelyn had always hated me—she thought I was lower-class trash who trapped her daughter—but I never imagined the venom had seeped so deeply into Taylor's mind.
"Daddy?" Lily's voice was getting weaker. The violent shivering was starting to slow down.
My heart seized. Slowing shivers meant her core temperature was dropping dangerously low. Hypothermia was setting in. I couldn't drive blindly into the night; she needed medical attention immediately. But I couldn't go to the Crestwood General Hospital. Evelyn sat on the hospital's board of directors.
I grabbed my phone and dialed the only person I could trust: my older brother, David. He lived two states over, in a cabin in the mountains. He was off the grid, a former Marine who didn't trust the government and despised Evelyn more than I did.
The phone rang twice before going to a dead tone.
I pulled the phone away from my ear, staring at the screen. No Signal.
"Damn it," I muttered. Evelyn had cellular jammers at the estate; had she put something in my truck? I glanced at the dashboard. The GPS screen was flickering.
Suddenly, a realization hit me like a bucket of ice water. Taylor had insisted on trading cars with me yesterday to take my truck to the mechanic for a "tune-up." She had bugged my truck. They were tracking me right now.
I slammed on the brakes, pulling the truck violently off the gravel shoulder of County Road 9. The truck skidded to a halt under the thick canopy of pine trees.
"Lily, sweetie, stay under the coat. Daddy has to check something outside," I said, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.
I grabbed my flashlight from the glove compartment and threw open the door. The night was pitch black. I scrambled onto the damp grass and slid underneath the chassis of the truck, sweeping the beam of light along the metal frame.
There. Tucked neatly behind the rear axle, held in place by heavy-duty magnets, was a small, black plastic box with a blinking red light. A military-grade GPS tracker.
My blood ran cold. They weren't just calling the cops. They were hunting me themselves.
May you like
I reached up, ripped the tracker off the metal, and threw it as far as I could into the dense woods. I crawled back out, covered in dirt and grease, and jumped back into the driver's seat.
"Change of plans, Lily-bug," I said, putting the truck back in gear. "We're going on an adventure."
Related Stories
