Chapter 4 – The Midnight Bus
“Oakhaven is twenty miles away,” Henry said, already turning back toward the door. “If a six-year-old boy is walking in this rain, he won’t make it two miles, let alone twenty. We have to drive the route.”
We ran back down the stairs, ignoring the panicked shouts of Madison’s private security guards. We piled into Henry’s truck. The clock on the dashboard read 2:38 AM. We had less than forty minutes before the bus left.
“Why would he buy a bus ticket in your name?” Ethan asked from the back seat, his voice tight with panic as Henry floored the gas pedal.
“He didn’t buy it,” I said, staring at the printed slip of paper. “Look at this, Ethan. It’s a printout from a corporate account. A VIP booking. A six-year-old can’t authorize a VIP Greyhound pass.”
Henry glanced at the ticket in my hand as he navigated the slick, winding mountain road. “Madison’s office handles VIP transit bookings.”
“Madison printed this,” I realized, the horrifying truth settling over me. “She gave it to him.”
“Why would she help him run away?” Ethan asked.
“She didn’t help him run away,” I said, my blood running cold. “She sent him out into a storm with a ticket in my name. If he gets hurt, or if he disappears, who do you think the police will trace that ticket back to? Me. The dead woman who suddenly reappeared.”
Ethan slammed his fist against the back of the passenger seat. “She’s setting you up. She wants you arrested for kidnapping.”
“Keep your eyes on the road, Henry,” I ordered. “Look for any sign of him.”
The rain was relentless, washing out the headlights. We drove for fifteen agonizing minutes down the dark highway. There was nothing but towering pine trees and mud.
Then, up ahead, a faint shape appeared on the shoulder of the road.
“There!” Ethan yelled, pointing to a small figure huddled under a bus stop shelter that was little more than a sheet of corrugated metal.
Henry slammed on the brakes, the truck fishtailing slightly before coming to a halt. Ethan threw open his door and sprinted into the freezing rain. I was right behind him.
Sitting on a wet wooden bench was a little boy. He wore a bright yellow raincoat that was entirely too big for him, clutching a small canvas backpack to his chest. He was shivering violently.
“Leo!” Ethan dropped to his knees in the mud and pulled the boy into his arms.
Leo didn’t cry. He just held onto his father’s neck tightly. “Daddy. I’m cold.”
“I know, buddy. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Ethan took off his dry suit jacket and wrapped it around the boy.
I stepped slowly under the shelter. Leo looked over his father’s shoulder at me. His eyes were wide, taking in my wet hair, my simple navy dress, and the deep wrinkles around my eyes.
“Are you the pie lady?” Leo asked, his voice shaking.
Tears finally spilled down my cheeks. I knelt in the mud beside my son and reached out, gently touching my grandson’s cold cheek. “Yes, sweetheart. I’m your Grandma Ruth.”
Leo pulled away from his father slightly and looked at me with piercing, intelligent eyes. “Mommy said you were an angel. But she said angels only come if you follow the rules. She gave me the paper and said I had to wait here for the big bus.”
“Your mother is a very sick woman, Leo,” Ethan said, his voice hardening with a fury I had never heard from him. He stood up, lifting Leo into his arms. “Let’s get him in the truck. We’re going to the police.”
We turned back toward Henry’s idling truck.
But as we did, three black SUVs suddenly swerved off the road, surrounding Henry’s truck and blocking us in. Their high beams blinded us.
The doors flew open, and half a dozen uniformed police officers stepped out, their hands resting cautiously on their belts.
Behind them, Madison stepped out of the lead SUV under the cover of an umbrella held by her father.
“Officers,” Madison cried out, her voice dripping with fake, desperate relief. She pointed a trembling finger directly at me. “That’s the woman! The deranged stalker who thinks she’s my husband’s dead mother. She tried to steal my son!”
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