Chapter 29 - The Journey to Moosehead Lake
Two days later, Arthur and fourteen-year-old Toby flew in a private charter plane to a small airfield in Greenville, Maine.
They hired a rugged four-wheel-drive SUV, driving deep into the thick pine forests as heavy fog rolled over the mountains.
The dirt road ended at a secluded clearing overlooking the dark, mirror-like waters of Moosehead Lake.
Nestled among the tall pine trees stood a sturdy wooden cabin with smoke drifting gently from its stone chimney.
"Someone is living here, Grandpa," Toby whispered, pointing to a vintage pickup truck parked under the wooden porch.
Arthur reached into his coat pocket, feeling the cold steel of his licensed sidearm as caution surged through his veins.
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"Stay behind me, Toby," Arthur instructed quietly as they stepped out of the SUV onto the damp pine needles.
They walked slowly up the wooden steps of the porch, the floorboards creaking softly under their leather boots.
