Chapter 15 - The Cabin Project
November brought biting winds and the first dusting of powdery snow to the high peaks around the cabin. With the children settled into their new school routine, Ryan found himself with quiet afternoons to focus on keeping his mind occupied.
He decided to fix up the old wooden deck that wrapped around the back of the cabin. The railing was loose in places, and the cedar planks needed a fresh coat of weather-proofing stain.
On a Saturday afternoon, Leo and Chloe were bundled up in heavy puffy coats, colorful woolen scarves, and knit beanies, acting as official supervisors of the construction site.
"Dad, you missed a spot right there," Leo pointed out seriously, handing Ryan a small sweeping brush.
"Did I, inspector?" Ryan chuckled, taking the brush and wiping away some sawdust. "Good catch. Why don't you and your sister grab the cans of blue paint from the porch? It's time to paint your custom birdhouse."
Chloe squealed with delight, dropping her handful of pinecones and scrambling toward the porch stairs.
Since coming to the mountains, Chloe had developed an obsession with building birdhouses with Sarah. To her, birds represented the ultimate symbol of freedom—creatures that could fly away from any dark space whenever they pleased.
As Ryan knelt down to screw a loose hinge back into the deck railing, a familiar car engine crunched up the driveway.
Ryan looked up, shading his eyes against the bright glare of the snow-covered ground. A dark sedan had parked near the woodpile, and a tall, familiar figure stepped out from the driver's side.
It was Detective Vance, wearing a heavy wool coat and thick boots, walking toward the deck with a relaxed stride.
"Detective! To what do I owe the pleasure?" Ryan asked, standing up and wiping his hands on a rag. "Is there an issue with the court filings?"
"Relax, Mr. Carter, no trouble at all," Vance said with a small grin, stopping at the base of the deck stairs. "I was up in this county visiting family for the weekend and realized I was only twenty minutes away from your new place. Thought I'd drop by and see how the kids were adjusting."
Chloe peeked out from behind the front door, holding a jar of bright blue paint, staring warily at the man in the coat.
Vance noticed her, crouched down to her eye level, and smiled warmly. "Hey there, Chloe. Remember me from the hospital?"
Chloe hesitated, gripping the paint jar a little tighter, before offering a shy, cautious nod. "You're the man who helped my daddy."
"I just helped open the door," Vance corrected gently. "Your daddy is the one who did all the heavy lifting." He looked up at Ryan, his expression turning a bit more serious. "Actually, there is one official piece of news I wanted to deliver in person. Clara’s preliminary hearing was held yesterday morning."
Ryan’s breathing hitched slightly. "And?"
"Her defense counsel tried to argue for a reduced sentence based on temporary mental distress," Vance said, standing back up and brushing snow off his knees. "The judge took one look at the medical reports from the night you brought her in, reviewed the history of confinement, and threw the motion out entirely. She pled guilty to all counts to avoid a grueling trial. Sentencing is set for next month, but she’s looking at a minimum of twelve years behind bars without parole."
The woods around them suddenly felt very quiet. Ryan looked down at his boots, processing the finality of the sentence. Twelve years. By the time Clara walked out of prison, Chloe would be a teenager, driving cars, and graduating high school. The past would be nothing more than a distant, faded chapter.
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"Thank you for letting me know, Detective," Ryan said quietly, his voice steady. "It brings a measure of closure."
"Good," Vance nodded, clapping Ryan on the shoulder. "Now, I hear rumors about a custom birdhouse being painted blue. Mind if an old cop inspects the craftsmanship?"
