“We need to leave.”
“The door is locked.”
“There’s another way out.”
He led me upstairs to a small bedroom. The closet contained a narrow wooden ladder leading to the attic. We climbed into darkness filled with cobwebs and dust. At the far end was a hatch opening onto the roof.
From there, we lowered ourselves onto the porch overhang and climbed down a drainage pipe.
The moment my feet touched the ground, Daniel grabbed my arm and pulled me behind the cabin.
A car was parked among the trees.
Not his sedan.
A black SUV.
Its driver’s door was open.
“Someone is still here,” he whispered.
Branches cracked to our left.
I turned, expecting a stranger.
Instead, Father Thomas stepped from the trees.
He wore no priestly collar. His gray hair was uncovered, and in his hand he carried a small metal crowbar.
“Stay away from her,” Daniel warned.
