Chapter 12
Marco gave me Claire’s last known route.
Victor refused.
That no longer mattered.
Four days earlier, Marco had followed one of Victor’s reserve vehicles north and seen a woman matching Claire’s description near an abandoned horse clinic beyond the ridge.
He told Victor.
Victor ordered him to stay away.
That was why Claire had moved again.
Maybe.
I looked at Emma.
“Would she go back there?”
“No.”
“Where would she go?”
Emma thought.
Then asked:
“What place on this ranch would Victor never search because he thinks it belongs to him?”
I stared at her.
Smart.
Claire had once said the same thing about hiding documents from my father.
Do not hide things where nobody looks.
Hide them where arrogant people believe they already looked.
The answer was the old foaling barn.
Victor converted it into storage years ago and stopped using it.
We drove there with only two men.
No convoy.
No sirens.
No drama.
The door was unlocked.
Inside, there was no Claire.
Only evidence.
A blanket.
Dried food.
A lantern.
And one of Sophie’s old newborn caps.
I picked it up.
Claire had been there.
Recently.
Then Emma found a line scratched into the wooden stall divider.
Three short marks.
Pause.
Three more.
The lullaby rhythm.
Not random.
Direction.
Three stalls.
Pause.
Three stalls.
We moved six sections down.
Behind the final divider was a narrow service door.
Snow tracks waited outside.
Fresh.
I followed them toward the tree line.
Then stopped.
A woman stood beneath the pines.
Thin.
Pale.
Alive.
Claire.
May you like
For four months I imagined what I would say if I ever found her.
When the moment came, I had nothing.
