Chapter 1 - THE CHILDREN IN THE WOODS
Rachel Morgan came home wearing blue medical scrubs and carrying a work bag she could barely feel in her hand.
Twelve-hour shift.
Two emergency admissions.
No lunch.
She expected:
Maisy asking for snacks,
Theo crying for her,
her father complaining that modern television had too many buttons.
Instead she heard screaming from the woods behind the house.
“HELP!”
Rachel dropped the bag.
A small figure burst through the trees.
Maisy.
Seven years old.
Pink shirt.
Shorts.
Barefoot.
Branches caught in her hair.
She was carrying Theo.
Her one-year-old brother clung to her shirt, sobbing weakly.
Rachel ran.
Maisy stumbled once.
Then collapsed into her.
Rachel grabbed Theo first, then pulled Maisy against her.
“What happened?!”
Maisy could barely breathe.
“Grandpa chased us!”
Rachel froze.
Her father?
Curtis Morgan was sixty-seven.
Stubborn.
Sharp-tongued.
Proud.
But he loved those children.
Then the branches moved.
Curtis emerged from the woods.
Sweating.
Breathing hard.
Eyes unfocused.
“Rachel.”
A paramedic from the neighboring house—off duty, still in uniform—had heard the shouting and come running.
Rachel thrust Theo into his arms.
Then stormed toward Curtis.
She slapped him.
“WHY ARE YOU CHASING MY CHILDREN?!”
Curtis staggered sideways.
Not because the slap was hard.
Because he looked unsteady.
He stared at Rachel.
Then at Maisy.
Then at Theo.
His face changed.
Confusion.
“Where’s Danny?”
Rachel stopped.
“Who?”
Curtis looked frightened now.
“Danny. Where’s my boy?”
Rachel’s anger cracked.
Danny was her younger brother.
Dead twenty-six years.
Curtis stepped toward Theo.
“That’s Danny.”
Rachel moved between them.
“No.”
Curtis’s eyes filled with panic.
“He was right there.”
Rachel stared at her father.
This was not rage anymore.
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Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
