Chapter 4 - The House in the Pines
The storage unit contained enough evidence to reopen everything.
Lucas’s school notebooks.
Clothes in several sizes.
Photographs taken over years.
A stuffed dinosaur Jenna identified as his favorite toy.
And one photograph showing part of a house reflected in a window.
White siding.
Green shutters.
Pine trees.
Detective Ortiz showed it to Vanessa.
She went pale.
“I’ve been there.”
Every person in the interview room stopped moving.
I was allowed to observe through a glass panel with Marcus because the information directly affected Madison’s safety.
Ortiz leaned forward.
“When?”
“Four years ago.”
“With Richard?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“You drove there.”
“He drove.”
“What do you remember?”
Vanessa pressed her hands against her forehead.
“About three hours north. Maybe more.”
“What happened there?”
Vanessa looked toward the mirror.
She knew I was behind it.
“I saw a boy.”
My stomach twisted.
“How old?” Ortiz asked.
“Maybe seven or eight.”
Lucas would have been around seven.
“What did Richard say?”
“He said the boy belonged to a caretaker.”
“Did you speak to him?”
“No.”
“Did the boy speak to you?”
Vanessa started crying.
“He called Richard Uncle Rich.”
I closed my eyes.
Ortiz stayed calm.
“What else?”
“The boy asked when his mom was coming.”
Silence.
Vanessa wiped her face.
“I asked Richard about it in the car.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me the boy’s mother was unstable and had abandoned him.”
Same story.
Again.
“Did you ever see Lucas’s missing-person photo?”
“Later.”
“When?”
“About a year afterward.”
“And did you recognize him?”
Vanessa whispered, “I thought I did.”
“Did you report it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Richard said I was imagining things.”
Ortiz stared at her.
“And you accepted that?”
“He threatened Daniel.”
My body stiffened.
“What did he say?”
“He said if I caused trouble, he had enough photographs and documents to make it look like Daniel took Lucas.”
I stared through the glass.
That explained the surveillance.
Richard didn’t only need me out of Madison’s life.
He needed me available as a convenient suspect.
Vanessa continued.
“I was already lying about Daniel.”
Her voice broke.
“No one would have believed me if I suddenly said Richard was dangerous.”
Ortiz replied coldly, “So you said nothing.”
“Yes.”
The police traced old Hayes family corporations.
One owned a hunting property in northern Pennsylvania.
Three hours north.
White house.
Green shutters.
Pine forest.
A tactical team reached it before sunset.
Jenna joined our call remotely.
Madison sat beside me.
I almost asked her to leave the room.
She refused.
“If this is connected to what Richard was going to do to me, I want to know.”
At 4:11 p.m., Ortiz called.
“We’re at the property.”
“Lucas?”
“Searching.”
The next twelve minutes felt longer than six years.
Then Ortiz said, “We found a bedroom.”
Jenna covered her mouth.
“What bedroom?”
“Height marks on the wall. Children’s books. Clothing.”
“Is he there?”
“No.”
My heart dropped.
Then someone shouted in the background.
Ortiz stopped talking.
I heard boots.
A door slamming.
Someone yelled:
“Police! Come out!”
Jenna stood.
“What’s happening?”
No answer.
Then another officer shouted:
“Found a concealed stairwell!”
Madison grabbed my hand.
I squeezed hers.
Seconds passed.
Then a voice came through the phone.
“We’ve got one person!”
Jenna made a broken sound.
“Lucas?”
Ortiz disappeared from the call.
One minute.
Two.
Then she returned.
Her voice was shaking.
“There’s a teenage boy.”
Jenna collapsed into her chair.
“Ask his name.”
“They’re talking to him now.”
“Ask him.”
Ortiz listened to someone away from the phone.
Then she said:
“He says his name is Lucas Morales.”
Jenna screamed.
Not from fear.
From nine years of hope crashing into one second.
I covered my mouth.
Madison cried beside me.
“He’s alive.”
“Yes.”
“He’s alive.”
But the rescue opened another nightmare.
Lucas told investigators Richard had visited him for years.
He also identified Richard’s mother, Margaret Hayes, as the woman who usually brought food.
Richard had not acted alone.
Neither had Vanessa known the full scheme.
The Hayes family had kept a child hidden for almost a decade.
And according to Lucas, Richard had visited the cabin only the day before.
He told the boy:
“We’re moving you soon.”
Ortiz asked where.
Lucas didn’t know.
Then Madison whispered beside me.
“Dad.”
I turned.
Her face had gone pale.
“What?”
“Richard has passports.”
My stomach dropped.
“What passports?”
“I saw them in his office.”
“When?”
“Last winter.”
“How many?”
“Three.”
“One was his?”
She nodded.
“One was Mom’s.”
“And the third?”
Madison began shaking.
“It had my picture.”
I knelt in front of her.
“Have you ever had a passport?”
“No.”
“What name was on it?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Think, sweetheart.”
She closed her eyes.
Then she whispered:
“Emma.”
“Emma what?”
“I don’t know.”
She looked terrified.
“One time I walked into his office and he called me Emma by accident.”
The police searched Richard’s house immediately.
The passports were gone.
So was Richard.
His attorney claimed he had no idea where his client was.
Airport alerts went out.
Border authorities were notified.
Within hours, surveillance showed Richard entering Philadelphia International Airport with one suitcase.
But he never boarded a flight.
He entered a restroom wearing one jacket and emerged wearing another.
Then he left through baggage claim.
“He wants us watching the airport,” Ortiz said.
“While he goes where?” I asked.
Nobody knew.
Then Vanessa suddenly remembered something.
“Camp Birchwood.”
Madison looked at her.
“My summer camp?”
Vanessa nodded.
“Richard chose it.”
I felt cold.
Police searched the closed camp that night.
Inside an old ranger cottage, they found two airline tickets.
One for Robert Mason.
The other for a thirteen-year-old girl.
Emma Mason.
The photograph on the fake passport attached to the reservation was Madison’s.
May you like
Richard Hayes had not just been trying to adopt my daughter.
He had been preparing to take her out of the country.
