— “Ellen, I think. They say she has a daughter, about twelve. Blonde girl. Is that right?”
Andrew felt a chill run down his spine. He kept his voice level.
— “She’s just helping in the kitchen.”
— “In the kitchen,” Rob repeated, as if tasting the words. “I hope you’re being careful, Andy. Children are a dangerous reminder. Especially when the past is supposed to stay dead.”
He stood up and set his glass down.
— “I should get going.”
— “Thanks for stopping by.”
— “Get some rest.”
As soon as the door closed, Andrew lunged for the phone.
— “David, does he know?”
— “We’re watching him,” his head of security replied. “His car is heading south. He’s on the move.”
— “He’s going to the cottage,” Andrew said, remembering the one place Rob might have stashed a ‘problem.’ “He’s going to tie up loose ends.”
— “We’re already en route, sir. What about you?”
— “I’m going to the lake house. The girl said he remembered it. I have to see for myself.”
He hung up and ran for his car. The wind whipped his face as he sped down the winding coastal roads. In the darkness, the trees blurred past like scenes from a nightmare. His thoughts were racing: Ethan is alive. He was there. He drew that picture. He’s been waiting for me.
His heart was racing. Every turn in the road brought him closer to an answer. The beach cottage stood on a secluded point, looking like a forgotten wound. Once a place of happiness, now a ghost. The moon cast a cold light over the shingles. The wind kicked up sand against the porch.
Andrew killed the engine, stepped out, and froze. On the corner of the porch, something was creaking. A white wooden bird on a pole was spinning in the wind—the exact one the girl had described.
— “My God,” he whispered….
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