Chapter 9 - The River Valley Route
We left the city limits behind us as the first pale streaks of gray light began to bleed through the low-hanging clouds over the eastern horizon. I kept the speedometer steady at forty-five miles per hour, following Route 9 as it wound away from the commercial districts and descended into the damp, heavily wooded terrain of the river valley. The road was slick with a fine morning mist that coated the windshield in a thin sheen, requiring regular sweeps of the wipers to keep the view clear.
Inside the car, the heater hummed softly, filling the cabin with a dry, artificial warmth that contrasted sharply with the chill pressing against the glass. Lily had fallen back into a deep, exhausted sleep across the back seat, her pink sweater rising and falling in a steady rhythm. In the rearview mirror, I checked her every few minutes, watching for any sign of distress, but she remained motionless, her face turned toward the window where the dark silhouettes of pine trees blurred past in the predawn gloom.
My thoughts drifted back to the damaged roses we had left behind in the penthouse suite, their bruised red petals scattered among the sterile trash of a room that belonged to a life I had left behind years ago. Arthur Vance's voice on the telephone—smooth, controlled, and utterly devoid of warmth—still echoed in the back of my mind. He hadn't sent Diane to help us out of kindness; he had sent her to manage an extraction before local authorities could link my presence in the building to the ongoing federal audit of the firm's hidden accounts. To Arthur, people were variables to be moved across a board until they no longer served a purpose, at which point they were quietly swept off the edge.
The miles ticked away on the odometer. Small towns with boarded-up storefronts and rusted welcome signs blurred past in the gray morning light. There were no other cars on the road, just the steady hum of the engine and the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers against the glass.
At 5:45 AM, the highway curved sharply around a steep granite embankment, revealing the rusted shell of an abandoned roadside diner sitting back from the shoulder. A weather-beated sign out front creaked in the morning breeze, its neon letters shattered and dark. Behind the building stood a solitary metal payphone booth, its glass panels intact but gray with a film of grime.
I signaled and pulled the sedan off the asphalt, crunching across the gravel lot until the car came to a halt beside the payphone booth. The engine ticked as it began to cool, the only sound in the empty valley. I switched off the ignition, silence rushing in to fill the cabin.
"Lily," I whispered softly, turning around in my seat to check on her. "Sweetheart, wake up. We're going to make a phone call."
She stirred, letting out a soft sigh as she sat up, rubbing her eyes with the back of her small hand while clutching the gray stuffed rabbit tight against her chest. She looked around the empty, mist-shrouded parking lot with wide, uncomprehending eyes.
"Where are we, Daddy?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly in the cold morning air.
May you like
"We're almost safe," I said, opening my door and stepping out into the damp mist to walk around to her side. "Just one more stop, and then we're going home."
###
