Chapter 7 - REUNION IN THE DARK
We drove to the farm where Maggie had been hiding my dad, an old place 40 miles outside Silver Lake, owned by Maggie’s grandma, surrounded by cornfields, no neighbors for miles. My hands were sweating the whole way, my leg bouncing up and down, Jax laughing and telling me to calm down, that I was gonna wear a hole in the floor mat. When we pulled up the driveway, the front door opened, and there he was: my dad, Camden Dennis, thinner than I remembered, his hair grayer, a scar running down his left cheek, but him, wearing the old flannel shirt he’d worn every weekend when I was a kid, his face crumpling when he saw me.
I jumped out of the truck before it even stopped, running to him, and he caught me, holding me so tight I could barely breathe, both of us crying, saying I’m sorry, I love you, I missed you, over and over, like we could make up for three years of lost time in one hug. For a long time, we didn’t say anything else, just stood there in the driveway, holding each other, the sun warm on our faces, Maggie and Jax giving us space, leaning against the truck, smiling.
When we finally went inside, sitting at the kitchen table, my dad told us everything: how he’d found the embezzlement three years ago, realized the mayor was behind it, had hired Maggie to get proof, how they’d found out, framed me to get him off balance, how he’d tried to get the evidence to the judge but the mayor had blocked him at every turn. “The night they tried to kill me,” he said, his voice tight, “I was packing a bag, gonna get you out of prison, take us both to Canada, start over. Reagan brought me a glass of wine, said she wanted to ‘talk things through.’ I drank it, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in a clinic in the next county, Maggie standing over me, telling me I’d been unconscious for 12 hours, that they’d told everyone I was dead. I wanted to come get you, son. I wanted to break you out of that prison every single day. But Maggie said if I did, they’d kill you before we got across the border. I had to wait. I had to let them think I was dead till you got out, till we had enough proof to take them all down.”
I reached across the table, grabbing his hand, squeezing it. “I know, Dad. I know. It’s okay. We’re together now. It’s over.”
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But it wasn’t over. Not yet. That night, we were sitting around the fireplace, making plans to go back to Silver Lake the next day, to talk to the prosecutors, to start rebuilding, when the burner phone in my pocket buzzed—the same unknown number that had texted me before. I pulled it out, my blood running cold when I read the text: They didn’t get all of them. Two of Hale’s men are at the farm. They’re gonna kill everyone. Get out now.
I jumped up, yelling They’re here! and Jax grabbed his rifle, Maggie grabbing her gun, my dad yanking the old shotgun out of the hall closet, Hale diving under the kitchen table. We turned off all the lights, the room going dark, the only light the faint glow of the moon through the windows, and I heard it: soft footsteps on the porch, the sound of a door handle jiggling, then a voice, low and cold: We know you’re in there, Dennis. Hand over the kid, and we’ll make it quick.
