Chapter 5 - Safe HouseThe cabin sat at the end
Staff Sergeant Miller helped Thomas carry Claire’s single suitcase inside. She was wrapped in an oversized green military wool blanket, her face pale, almost translucent under the dim light of the cabin’s single oil lamp.
Thomas set her down on the faded patchwork quilt of the low-slung iron bed. Her knee was heavily bandaged, stabilized by a black Velcro brace the hospital had provided.
"Miller," Thomas said, his voice a low rumble in the wooden room. "Go back to the post. Clear my calendar for the next seventy-two hours. If the Chief of Staff calls, tell him I am taking emergency leave. Personal matter."
"Understood, Colonel," Miller said. He looked at Claire, his chest rising with a quiet, protective breath. He had seen the bruised skin under her sleeves when they lifted her. "I’ll keep a radio on. If you need anything... anything at all, sir."
"Thank you, Sergeant."
When the door closed and the sound of the sedan's engine faded into the pines, the silence of the cabin settled over them like a heavy, wet wool blanket. Thomas pulled a wooden chair close to the bed. He did not ask her how she felt. He did not ask her to talk. He simply sat, his hands resting on his knees, his broad shoulders blocking the draft from the window.
"Dad," Claire whispered. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, where the dark cedar beams crossed. "He's going to find us."
"No," Thomas said. "He won't."
"He has people, Dad. His father's friends. They have private investigators. They have trackers. They can look up your military pension records, your property deeds—"
"Let them," Thomas said. His voice was like the stones at the bottom of the river—cold, heavy, and unmoving. "Let them come to this spit of land, Claire. I spent thirty-four years training men to defend positions far worse than this one. He is a boy with a trust fund and a lawyer. He does not know what happens when he steps off the pavement."
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Claire turned her head toward him, a tear escaping the corner of her eye and cutting a clean path through the dust on her cheek. "I’m so tired. My head... it feels like it’s full of gray wool."
Thomas reached out, his thick, scarred thumb gently catching the tear before it reached her ear. "That’s the medicine, sweet girl. The doctor said it will take three days for the benzodiazepines to leave your system. We’re going to let them wash out. Every last drop."
