Chapter 12 - The Road That Took Everything
Blackwood Mountain.
Seven years earlier, that road had taken my health, my child, and almost everything I believed about my life.
Now Peter Lawson was taking my son back there.
At least, that was where the evidence pointed.
Detective Hayes coordinated with the local authorities.
Search teams were sent toward the old mountain roads.
Traffic cameras were reviewed.
And a statewide alert was issued for the vehicle connected to Ethan's disappearance.
I wanted to ride with the police.
They refused.
Not because I was in a wheelchair.
Because civilians couldn't accompany an active search operation.
For once, I understood the difference.
Charlotte and Samuel took me to a nearby command center where we could provide information without interfering.
At two thirteen in the morning, a deputy reported finding a vehicle abandoned near an old maintenance road.
The license plates were missing.
The interior had been wiped down.
But in the rear seat, investigators found a child's toy airplane.
Margaret recognized it immediately.
Ethan's favorite.
I clutched the photograph she'd given me.
"Please be alive," I whispered.
At three, the search commander called us into a small conference room.
He placed an aerial map on the table.
The old road curved around a steep ridge before disappearing into forest.
A narrow service lane led toward an abandoned ranger station.
That was where investigators had found fresh tire tracks.
Samuel leaned forward.
"Peter knows that area."
"How?" I asked.
"He worked on a construction project nearby before your accident."
I stared at him.
"What project?"
"A private mountain property Richard planned to develop."
My stomach tightened.
I remembered now.
Richard had wanted to build a luxury resort near Blackwood Mountain.
My father had refused to finance it.
After Dad died, Richard brought the proposal to me.
I rejected it, too.
The project was environmentally risky and financially reckless.
Richard had been furious.
Three weeks later, my car went off the road.
I looked at Samuel.
"The resort."
He nodded grimly.
"That may have been part of the financial motive."
Charlotte examined the map.
"Was the project ever completed?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"After Eleanor's accident, Richard abandoned it and wrote off the losses."
I felt something cold settle inside me.
The crash might not have been only about taking control of Whitmore Holdings.
It might also have been about preventing me from uncovering what Richard had already done with its money.
At four forty, a call came from the search team.
They had located the ranger station.
A man had been seen moving near the building.
Officers were approaching.
The room fell silent.
I stared at the radio.
Every second felt endless.
Then a voice came through.
"One adult male located."
My heart hammered.
"Child not visible."
I gripped Charlotte's hand.
The next transmission came thirty seconds later.
"Male subject is unarmed."
A pause.
"He is requesting to speak with Eleanor Whitmore."
Detective Hayes looked at me.
"Mrs. Whitmore, I need you to remain calm."
I almost laughed.
"My son is missing."
"I understand."
"No, Detective. I don't think you do."
He nodded.
"You're right. But we may have an opportunity to get useful information."
The man was Peter Lawson.
Alive.
Older.
Thinner.
With a scar beside his left ear.
He had been living under false identities for years.
When the police questioned him, he refused to say where Ethan was.
He only repeated one sentence.
"Get Eleanor here."
Detective Hayes arranged a recorded video call.
I faced the screen.
Peter appeared in a small interview room.
His face was pale.
His hands shook.
For a moment, he simply stared at me.
Then he began crying.
"Mrs. Whitmore."
I felt sick.
"Where is my son?"
"I'm sorry."
"Where is he?"
Peter covered his face.
"I didn't know they were going to take the baby."
I slammed my hand against the wheelchair armrest.
"Stop talking about the past. Where is Ethan?"
Peter looked up.
"He's safe."
"Where?"
"With someone who promised to protect him."
"Who?"
Peter looked toward the detective standing beside him.
"I need immunity."
Detective Hayes answered immediately.
"That's not something I can promise."
Peter swallowed.
"Then I need protection."
"From whom?"
"Richard."
I leaned toward the screen.
"Richard already knows you're alive."
"Not everything."
"What does that mean?"
Peter's expression changed.
"There's a recording."
My heart stopped.
"What recording?"
"From the night of the crash."
I stared at him.
"Who made it?"
"Me."
"Where is it?"
He lowered his eyes.
"I kept a copy."
"Then give it to the police."
He shook his head.
"Not until I know the boy is safe."
I felt rage rising inside me.
"You took my son from his home."
"I didn't hurt him."
"That doesn't make you innocent."
Peter flinched.
Then whispered, "You're right."
Detective Hayes stepped forward.
"Mr. Lawson, tell us where the child is."
Peter looked at me one last time.
"I took him because someone was coming for him. The same people who tried to finish what happened seven years ago."
"Who?"
Peter's face drained of color.
He leaned closer to the camera.
Then said:
"Your husband wasn't the person who ordered the crash, Eleanor."
I couldn't speak.
Peter swallowed.
"Richard paid for it."
A terrible silence filled the room.
"But someone else wanted you dead."
"Who?" I whispered.
May you like
Peter closed his eyes.
"Your sister."
