Chapter 8
She must have asked him to take her home. There was something she needed to find, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She just needed a clear head to piece the moments back together.
The drive back to the resort passed in silence. Her thoughts drifted without direction until they landed, uncomfortably, on Isaac—on how little he truly knew her. She wasn’t the woman he thought she was.
Not even close.
Isaac had emails to catch up on, so she took a walk around the grounds. She knew she needed to be alone, away from Isaac, though she wasn’t sure why.
Not long into the walk, a chill crept into the breeze, making her slip her hands into her pockets.
Kara felt the folded paper before she remembered it. Then it came back to her, the reason why they were at the house at all.
She pulled it out slowly.
In Elias’s handwriting, hurried and uneven, was a name and a number.
Her pulse quickened.
Without giving it another thought, Kara dialed the number of the person she hadn’t thought about in years.
She raised the phone, the paper trembling slightly in her hand. Kara hesitated before pressing the call, wondering if they’d even kept the same number all these years.
When the line connected, a voice answered—familiar, but with a sharp edge that made her stomach tighten.
“I’m trying to find Elias,” she said.
“I heard you were back,” they said, low and careful.
“I need to find Elias,” Kara said again, keeping her voice steady, though her hands shook. “Can you tell me where I might start?”
“You might find him in Redwood.” The voice offered little guidance. “ But don't forget, the demons come out at night.”
Kara didn’t ask questions anymore, heeding the warning. She tucked the phone away.
Redwood sat on the edge of town where drugs flowed through its streets as freely as rainwater through a gutter.
Gang colors marked fences, abandoned buildings served as territory lines, and everyone knew the same unspoken rule: choose a side or become a target.
People didn't go into Redwood by accident, and if they did, they usually didn't make the mistake twice.
It was the kind of neighborhood that made decent people lock their doors and check their mirrors on the drive home.
Everyone in the county knew. It was the kind of place parents warned their curious teenagers about, and cops entered with backup.
The houses sagged beneath years of neglect, their windows boarded over or covered with stained sheets.
Abandoned cars rusted in driveways. Dealers worked street corners in broad daylight, and nobody bothered pretending otherwise.
It was a neighborhood with its own rules, and they weren't written anywhere. Out there, people didn't ask questions or give answers. They didn't talk to police or cross the wrong people.
After dark, even the streetlights seemed reluctant to shine there. It was a place where a wrong look could start a fight, a wrong word could start a war, and where everybody knew that sometimes people disappeared and never came back. The worst part was that nobody seemed surprised when they did.
She wondered how she was going to explain her need to follow through with this without revealing her past to Isaac. He hadn’t known about this part of her life. She felt uneasy. Something in the warning lingered, bitter and heavy, like smoke curling around her.
They ate dinner at the restaurant downstairs. She pushed her food around her plate, appetite gone. Isaac didn’t notice, and she was grateful for that. He talked easily, excited to drive around later and see more of the town, pointing out places he wanted to explore.
He was so sweet. So trusting. He had no idea of what she was leading him into.
The Montana sun was deceptively gentle that morning, reaching across the open plains and forest edges, painting the landscape in lush light.
Kara felt none of its warmth. Each hour was growing heavier, thicker, as if time itself were steeping in dread.
They had started early, Isaac behind the wheel of the rented Mercedes, his jaw tight, eyes scanning the road as if Elias might appear like a hitchhiker at the next bend.
Kara sat beside him, one foot bouncing anxiously.
She clutched her phone like it might ring, though deep down she knew it wouldn’t.
The first stop was a broken-down trailer on a plot of land that looked long abandoned. The man who opened the door wasn’t Elias, just someone who knew him. Elias hadn’t been seen in a few days—“maybe went up to the ridge,” the man had said, squinting past them toward the distant line of trees.
They drove the back roads. Isaac muttered GPS coordinates under his breath. Kara stared out the window, barely blinking, her mind racing faster than the car. Every fence, every truck parked off to the side, every pile of discarded beer cans felt like a clue or a warning.
At a run-down diner with sun-faded signage, they asked a waitress if she’d seen Elias.
“No,” she said without meeting their eyes. Then, more quietly, “Even if I had, I wouldn’t tell you.”
The tense pause between Kara and Isaac stretched. She didn’t explain why this mattered so much. He didn’t ask. But every mile that passed made the truth press harder on her chest. She needed answers to understand the version of the past she remembered.
Her phone buzzed against the table, rattling just enough to pull her from her thoughts.
Kara sighed when she saw the caller. Jenna. Her assistant in New York. She considered ignoring it, but old habits died hard.
She slid her finger across the screen. Hi, Jenna.”
A pause, then the clipped: “Hey, sorry to bother you—just a quick question. The Higgins contract? They bumped the deadline again. Do we want to proceed with the original clause or revise?”
Kara rubbed at her temple, trying to mentally switch gears. “Stick to the original. If they want to renegotiate, they can come back to the table.”
“Got it,” Jenna said, a moment of hesitation before continuing, “Everything okay out there?”
Kara glanced around the diner—the chipped counters, the hum of fluorescent lights overhead, the soft clang of dishes from the kitchen. Everything looked the same, and yet nothing was.
“I’m fine,” she lied softly. “Just… wrapping things up.”
“Alright. I’ll hold down the fort.”
Kara hung up and set the phone aside, face down.
Work never stopped, but at least it reminded her that another life—her real life—still existed. One far from this place and everything it carried.
Kara had barely eaten all day. Neither had Isaac. They had survived on sweetened burnt coffee. A pit of worry that gnawed in her gut. She took a bite of grilled cheese that sat on a plate in front of her, now slightly cold; it tempered her hunger pangs.
By late afternoon, they had driven nearly two counties over, winding through pine-covered roads where the cell service dropped entirely. They stopped at a gas station where no one smiled, and where a boy no older than sixteen offered them bad directions while pretending to know who Elias was.
One more day, she told herself. Maybe two. Find out what Elias knew, then help finalize the house with Zoe and the realtor.
“Try the old lumber mill,” someone had finally said. A woman in her sixties with clouded eyes and a cigarette that never left her lips. “Sometimes he sleeps there when things get bad.”
He was on one of his drug-fueled binges was what was left unsaid.
They found the place just after the sun began to dip behind the trees.
The sky turned a sickly gold, light bending through the dust in the air.
The mill was half-collapsed, rusted nails jutting from the weathered wood, beams sagging under their own weight.
It looked abandoned in a way that suggested it hadn’t been safe long before it was forgotten.
Kara stepped out of the car. The slam of the door traveled, then the grate of the mill in the breeze was all too loud. He was here.
Inside, the place was a skeleton of what it used to be.
Sawdust still coated parts of the floor, and old tools lay discarded.
They moved carefully, calling Elias’s name once, quietly, then louder as she rushed towards the groan that answered.
They found him crumpled in a corner behind a stack of rotting pallets.
Fresh blood poured out of his temple and covered the right side of his face.
Isaac was already beside him, checking his pulse.
Kara knelt too. Elias stirred just enough to mumble something.
His face was swollen almost past recognition, one eye sealed shut, his mouth split, and a cut above the other eye still wept.
“Gghh.” Elias managed.
“What?” she asked, but he didn’t answer. Elias was in really bad shape, his breathing shallow and his eyes fluttering.
“Is he dead?!”
“His pulse is weak, but he’s alive, Kara,” Isaac said, calm and measured. “Do you have service yet?”
She fished her phone out. No bars. She tried again. Dial tone.
We need to get him help. He’ll die out here.
As if reading her mind, Isaac began lifting him gingerly, taking most of the weight.
“Easy,” he muttered, jaw tight. “I’ve got him.”
Kara yanked the back door open. She crawled inside and helped Isaac slump Elias into the backseat, his head landing in her lap, his body nothing but dead weight. She cradled him instantly, brushing the blood-matted hair from his face.
His breathing was shallow but steady.
“Hey—hey, Elias. Stay with me,” she begged, words tumbling out as her hands shook. “You’re okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
The engine roared to life. Tires bit into the road. The ride dissolved into streaks of headlights, trees flashing by and a suffocating silence, broken only by Elias’s uneven breathing—and the low, pained noises he couldn’t stop himself from making.
“Isaac,” Kara said, voice tight, “He’s not breathing right.”
“I know.” Isaac glanced back, one hand white-knuckled on the wheel. “Elias? Don’t you dare check out on us.”
Elias groaned, raw and broken, his body twitching. Kara sucked in a sharp breath.
“That’s good,” Isaac said quickly. “That’s good. Means he’s still with us.”
The sun had vanished completely now, taking with it any illusion of safety. Kara watched the road lines blur past like a countdown she couldn’t stop. Her fingers trembled against Elias’s chest, counting breaths. His breathing was too uneven. She watched as his chest shuddered with each exhale.