Chapter 5 - The Flight
The aftermath was a blur of flashing lights, frantic questioning, and the sterile, suffocating air of a police station. But even as the detectives swarmed the bridge, I knew one thing: I couldn't let them put Toby back into the system. The foster care records were a black hole, and the people behind Marcus—the shadowy creditors who had bankrolled his obsession—were still out there.
While the officers were busy scouring the water for Marcus, I made a choice. In the chaos, I grabbed Toby’s hand. We slipped behind a line of cruisers, moving into the thick, coastal fog. I had a cache of cash hidden in my spare tire—a habit born from my own troubled upbringing—and my car was parked far enough away to avoid the dragnet.
"We’re going to the cabin," I whispered to him as we buckled up.
"The one in the pictures?" Toby asked, his voice steady for the first time. He was a resilient boy, possessing a quiet wisdom that felt ancient.
"Yes. It’s time you saw where you really come from."
The drive was long, taking us through the dense, towering pines of the Pacific Northwest. We didn't talk about the danger. We talked about small things—the taste of the coffee I bought at a gas station, the way the fog clung to the trees, the strange coincidences of our lives. As the miles ticked by, I realized Toby wasn't just a victim; he was the final piece of the puzzle I had been trying to solve for over a decade.
We arrived at the cabin—an old, salt-worn structure perched on a jagged cliff overlooking the ocean—just as the sun began to bleed across the horizon. It was here, in this solitude, that Toby finally spoke the truth. He told me about the basement where he’d been kept, about the documents he’d stolen, and about the letters he’d written to me, imagining I was his mother.
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"I didn't list you because I knew you," Toby said, looking out at the crashing surf. "I listed you because I heard them talking about you every night. They were afraid of you, Alice. They were afraid that if I ever reached you, you’d be the one to end it."
I realized then that my "lonely" life in Olympia hadn't been an accident. I had been unconsciously keeping myself prepared, keeping my life small so that I could defend it. But now, with Toby here, the space felt full. We spent two days in the cabin, reinforcing the doors, gathering supplies, and preparing for the final, inevitable arrival of those who wanted to silence us.
