Chapter 3 - The Night Runner
The rain did not stop, but it settled into a steady, gray drizzle that turned the streets of Oakridge into mirrors.
Lily slipped out of the barn through the gap in the foundation at 3:15 AM. The key was tucked safely into her inner shoe, pressed flat against her heel under her damp sock. Every step she took felt sharp, but the pain kept her awake.
She didn't take Route 33. Lawrence had warned her that Arthur’s men might be patrolling the main roads, looking for any sign of a survivor from the wreck. Instead, she followed the old industrial spur line—the abandoned tracks where the weeds grew through the gravel ties.
The town was dead. The streetlights flickered with a yellow, sickly light that didn't reach the alleys.
As she neared the center of town, she passed the Oakridge Children’s Center. The building was dark, except for a single security light over the back playground. Lily stopped by the fence, her fingers hooking into the cold metal mesh. She looked at the dark windows of the dormitory room where she knew Emma was sleeping.
“I’m doing it, Emma,” she thought, her teeth chattering from the cold. “The man in the suit promised.”
A pair of headlights appeared at the end of the block. They were moving slowly, too slowly for a regular car. It was a black SUV with tinted windows, its spotlight scanning the drainage ditches beside the road.
Lily dropped to her stomach in the tall grass beside the fence. She lay perfectly still, her face pressed into the wet mud, her breath caught in her throat. The SUV crawled past, the beam of its spotlight cutting through the air just inches above her head. She saw the corporate logo on the door before it disappeared into the dark: Vance Private Security.
Lawrence hadn't been paranoid. His brother had sent wolves to clean up the mess.
Lily waited until the tail lights disappeared before she stood up. She ran the remaining four blocks to the First National Bank.
The bank was a historic stone structure with massive pillars that looked like frozen trees. It had been closed for years—one of the many casualties of the town’s economic collapse—but the automated teller vestibule in the front remained open for the remaining town residents who used the electronic deposit drop.
Lily approached the glass doors. They were locked, requiring a debit card swipe to open.
She didn't have a card. But she knew the architecture of Oakridge better than the people who built it.
She walked around to the side of the building, where the old coal chute dropped into the basement. The iron door was secured with a heavy padlock, but the brickwork around the frame had been crumbling for a decade. Lily reached her small hand into the gap between the mortar, feeling around until her fingers caught the release lever she had discovered two winters ago when she needed a dry place to hide from a frost.
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With a dull, heavy click, the chute door swung inward.
Lily squeezed her shoulders through the narrow opening, sliding backward into the pitch-black basement of the bank. She landed on a pile of old coal dust, the black soot exploding into her eyes and mouth, but she didn't make a sound. She was inside.
