“I will have it once the court releases Elliot’s operating accounts,” I said. “Which they will do as soon as they review the filing.”

My father shook his head.

“You’re dreaming,” he said.

“Am I?” I asked.

I looked at my phone again.

Another message popped up, the screen flashing.

It wasn’t from Malcolm this time.

It was from Calvin.

I swiped the screen to read it.

My heart skipped a beat as I read the words.

I looked up at my parents, my face freezing.

“What is it?” my mother asked, her voice barely a whisper.

I didn’t answer.

The sound of a car engine echoed through the trees outside, coming up the steep ridge.

It wasn’t a standard car.

It was the heavy, rumbling sound of a diesel engine.

My father turned toward the window, his expression hardening.

“Who is that?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, though I had a very good idea.

The headlights of a second vehicle swept across the dark cabin walls, casting long, frantic shadows.

The vehicle pulled into the driveway, its engine idling with a loud, rhythmic thrum.