"Fine." She finally says. "I'll follow you. But if this is some kind of trap—"
"It's not."
"—I have pepper spray and I know how to use it."
"Good." I mean it. A woman alone with a kid should know how to protect herself. "Follow me. Stay as far back as you want. And if you change your mind at any point, just turn around."
I head back to my truck, half-expecting her to drive off in the opposite direction the second I'm not blocking her car. But when I pull out onto the street, her Honda follows.
We drive through the quiet town and out onto the rural highway. Fifteen minutes of dark road and scattered houses before the turnoff to Promise Ranch appears. I signal early, giving her plenty of warning, and turn onto the long driveway that leads to the main house.
The Honda hesitates at the entrance.
Come on, I think. Trust me. Just fucking trust me.
After a moment that feels like forever, her headlights turn and follow me up the drive.
Chapter 3 - Lily
I must be out of my goddamn mind.
Following a strange man down a dark rural highway in the middle of Montana, my two-year-old daughter sleeping in the backseat, all my worldly possessions packed in my trunk. This is how women end up on true crime podcasts. This is how horror movies start.
But Rosie made that sound. That little whimper she makes when she's cold, and something in me just... broke.
I can't keep doing this. I can’t keep sleeping in parking lots and telling myself it's an adventure. I can’t keep pretending that living out of my car is sustainable or healthy or anything other than slowly destroying both of us.
The truck ahead of me signals and turns onto a long driveway. A wooden sign catches my headlights: Promise Ranch. At least that part wasn't a lie. There really is a ranch, and it really is called Promise Ranch.
I hesitate at the entrance, my hands tight on the steering wheel. Last chance to turn around. Last chance to choose the devil I know: cold car, restless sleep, constant vigilance over the devil I don't.
Rosie whimpers again in her sleep.
Fuck it.
I turn onto the driveway and follow the truck's taillights. The road is dirt and gravel, winding through darkness punctuated by occasional fence posts. In the distance, I can see lights. Buildings. The outline of a barn against the night sky.
It looks... real. Like an actual working ranch and not some elaborate setup to murder unsuspecting single mothers.
The truck pulls up in front of a small cottage set apart from the main house. White siding, front porch, flower boxes that probably look nice in daylight. Homey. The kind of place I used to dream about when I was pregnant and stupid enough to believe the father would stick around.
I park behind the truck but don't get out. The big man, I never got his name, which is another red flag I'm choosing to ignore, climbs out and walks toward my car slowly like he's approaching a wild animal that might bolt.
Smart man.
I crack my window again, just an inch. "This is it?"
"This is Wade's cottage," he says, keeping his distance. "Wade and Sierra usually live here, but like I said, they're gone for the week. Place is yours if you want it."
I stare at the cottage through my windshield. It looks warm and inviting. I can see curtains in the windows, a couch through the front window. It looks clean. Safe. Normal.
"What's your name?" I ask suddenly.
He blinks, like the question surprises him. "Mason. Mason Reid."
"I'm Lily." I don't give him my last name. Not yet. "And this is Rosie."
"Nice to meet you, Lily." His voice is rough but not unkind. "You want to come inside? I can show you around, make sure you're comfortable."
