AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Let's get going," Morgan said, her determination steeling her resolve. As the car roared to life, she glanced over at Derik, noticing the way his jaw remained locked, his gaze fixed unerringly on the road ahead. She understood that, for him, this was personal.
Morgan steeled herself for what lay ahead. She focused on the rhythmic beat of her heart, forcing her thoughts to remain centered on their objective. They needed to find Mary before it was too late, and they couldn't afford any distractions—not even the powerful emotions churning inside them.
"Every second counts," she whispered under her breath, her own words serving as a reminder that there was no room for mistakes. As they sped toward the woodshop, Morgan felt an odd mixture of fear and resolve settle in her chest. Somehow, they would save Mary. Failure wasn't an option.
***
The sun blazed high in the sky as Morgan and Derik pulled up to the private woodshop. Its rays pierced through a thin layer of clouds, casting long shadows across the gravel driveway. The building itself was unassuming, its weathered wooden exterior blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. A car—a nondescript sedan—was parked haphazardly out front, as if abandoned in haste.
"Think that's Mary's car?" Derik asked, peering through the windshield.
"Could be," Morgan replied, her eyes narrowing as she studied the scene. "Stay sharp." She unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the car door, the crunch of gravel beneath her feet punctuating the silence.
Derik followed suit, his gun already drawn as he stepped out onto the uneven ground. Morgan could see the tension radiating off him, and she knew his personal connection to the case was fueling his determination. She drew her own weapon, keeping it at the ready as they approached the building.
"Watch our six," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the rustle of leaves. Derik nodded, his gaze sweeping their surroundings for any signs of danger.
As they neared the entrance to the woodshop, Morgan's heart pounded in her chest, anticipation and fear mingling within her. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before pushing open the door, its hinges creaking in protest.
"Mary?" she called out, her voice echoing off the walls. No response came, just the faint sound of sawdust settling on the floor.
"Clear," Derik said, his focus still on their surroundings. "Let's check inside."
"Right," Morgan agreed, stepping into the dimly lit interior. The smell of freshly cut wood filled her nostrils, accompanied by the pervasive scent of oil and varnish. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, taking in the various woodworking tools and half-finished projects scattered about the room.
"See anything?" Derik asked, his voice tense as he scanned the space.
"Nothing yet." Morgan's grip tightened on her gun as she moved cautiously through the workshop. Each step felt like an eternity as she searched for any sign of Mary—or Joe Dancer.
"Derik, I need you focused," Morgan thought to herself, hoping he could keep his emotions in check, at least until they found Mary. She knew all too well how personal feelings could cloud judgment, and right now, they couldn't afford any missteps.
"Stay close," she whispered, her pulse quickening with each passing moment. They had to find Mary before it was too late, before Joe Dancer could claim another victim.
And they would—but first, they had to survive whatever lay waiting for them within the depths of the woodshop.
Sunlight cast long, distorted shadows across the workshop as Morgan and Derik moved cautiously around the building. The faint sound of a metallic clanking echoed from somewhere behind the woodshop, causing them to exchange wary glances.
"Did you hear that?" Derik whispered, cocking his head in the direction of the noise.
Morgan nodded, her senses heightened and adrenaline coursing through her veins. "I'll break in and check on Mary. You go see what's making that noise."
"Are you sure splitting up is a good idea?" Derik asked, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.
"Trust me," Morgan replied, her voice firm but reassuring. "Time is running out. We can't risk leaving any stone unturned."
Derik hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Alright. Be careful."
"You too," Morgan said, watching him disappear around the corner before turning her attention back to the task at hand.
With a swift kick, she shattered the door lock and burst into the dimly lit interior of the workshop. Sawdust swirled in the air, dancing in the beams of sunlight that filtered through the grimy windows. Rows of woodworking tools lined the walls, their sharp edges gleaming menacingly in the darkness.
"Mary?!" Morgan called out, her voice tense as she scanned the room. There was no response—only the low hum of an active saw blade growing louder by the second. A feeling of dread crept through her chest, tightening its grip around her heart with each passing moment.
"Come on, where are you?" she muttered under her breath, her eyes darting around the room in search of the young woman.
As she rounded a large workbench, she finally spotted her: Mary, bound and gagged, her gloved hands hooked to a saw belt with the deadly spinning blade drawing closer. Her eyes were wide with terror, tears streaming down her pale cheeks.
"Mary!" Morgan gasped, rushing forward and reaching for the lever that controlled the saw.
