Chapter 10 - The Waterfront Sanctuary
By dawn, the torrential rain had slowed to a greasy, gray drizzle that clung to the docks along the city’s industrial waterfront. Victoria had abandoned her recognizable clothing, trading her designer jacket for an oversized work shirt purchased with crumpled cash at an all-night truck stop. Maya walked beside her, clad in an oversized boy’s rain slicker, her small boots squelching through puddles of oil-slicked water. They arrived at an abandoned maritime repair shop whose rusted sign read ""Miller Marine.""
Victoria banged three times on the corrugated metal roll-up door, paused, and knocked twice more. A viewing hatch slid back, revealing the weathered, skeptical face of Thomas Miller—a retired harbor master and the only man Victoria's late husband had genuinely trusted. Seeing Victoria drenched, bruised, and clutching a dirty runaway, Miller’s weathered face smoothed into deep concern. He opened the heavy door just wide enough to let them slip inside before locking three separate deadbolts behind them.
Inside, the smell of engine grease, diesel fuel, and saltwater offered a strangely comforting sense of security. Miller set them up in his mezzanine office, brewing strong black coffee while Maya collapsed into an old vinyl recliner, instantly falling into a deep, exhausted sleep. ""The news is already spinning it, Victoria,"" Miller said quietly, turning a small black-and-white television toward her. The morning broadcast flashed Victoria’s corporate headshot beside sensational headlines accusing her of kidnapping an unidentified minor during an acute psychological breakdown. Julian was already moving his pieces to erase them permanently.
