Chapter 6 - THE TRAP TRAVIS BUILT FOR HIMSELFTravis was heading west.
That much investigators knew.
Where he was going was less obvious.
The gas station receipt came from a town near Interstate 64.
Traffic cameras picked up a gray sedan matching the description seven miles farther down the highway, but the plate was unreadable.
Then it disappeared.
“He could be going anywhere,” I said.
Caleb shook his head.
“Men like Travis rarely run somewhere random.”
“Where would he go?”
“Somewhere he thinks he has control.”
The answer came from Monica Reyes.
When investigators showed her photographs of the items recovered from Bell Creek Storage, she noticed something missing.
A red folder.
“What was in it?” Nora asked.
Monica hesitated.
“Property deeds.”
“What properties?”
“I only saw one.”
She described an old hunting lodge near Greenbrier County.
It belonged to a company called RHM Holdings.
The initials meant nothing to us.
They meant something to Patricia.
“Raymond Henry Holloway.”
Travis’s father.
Records showed RHM Holdings still owned sixty-three acres surrounding an abandoned hunting lodge.
Investigators immediately moved.
But Caleb cautioned them.
“If Travis knows anybody discovered the storage unit, he'll assume you know about the lodge.”
Nora agreed.
“So maybe he isn't there.”
“Maybe.”
“Or maybe he wants us to think he isn't.”
The tactical team approached carefully.
The lodge appeared empty.
No vehicles.
No lights.
No movement.
Then a trooper spotted fishing line strung across the back entrance.
Attached to an alarm.
Travis had prepared the property.
Inside they found food, ammunition, clothes, cash, and surveillance monitors.
But no Travis.
One monitor displayed live footage from cameras positioned along the driveway.
“He was watching,” Nora said.
“He saw them arrive,” Caleb replied.
Another camera pointed toward a second building half a mile away.
An old maintenance shed.
Officers surrounded it.
Empty.
A dirt bike was missing from hooks inside.
Tire tracks led into the woods.
Travis had escaped again.
I wanted to scream.
But Lena reacted differently.
“He's scared.”
I looked at her.
“How can you tell?”
“Because he runs when he feels control slipping.”
She understood him better than any investigator.
“Whenever we'd argue and I stopped reacting, he would leave. Sometimes for hours. He couldn't stand not knowing what I was thinking.”
Caleb leaned forward.
“What would he do next?”
Lena considered the question.
“He’d try to make me come to him.”
“How?”
“He’d threaten something I care about.”
My phone rang twenty minutes later.
Unknown number.
Caleb and Nora both looked at me.
Lena whispered, “That's him.”
Nora connected recording equipment.
“Answer.”
I did.
“Hello?”
“Dad.”
My blood froze.
It wasn't Travis.
It was a teenage boy.
“Who is this?”
“My name is Ethan.”
Lena gasped.
“Ethan?”
She took a step toward me.
I covered the microphone.
“Who?”
“Travis’s nephew.”
Travis’s older sister had a seventeen-year-old son.
Lena hadn't seen him in months.
“Mr. Mercer,” Ethan whispered, “Uncle Travis told me to call you.”
“Where are you?”
“I don't know.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Is Travis with you?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Nora began writing instructions on a sheet of paper.
KEEP HIM TALKING.
“Ethan, I need you to stay calm.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I didn't know.”
“Know what?”
“That he was crazy.”
In the background, a door slammed.
Then Travis took the phone.
“Jack.”
My entire body tightened.
“What are you doing with Ethan?”
“Nothing, if everybody behaves.”
“He's a kid.”
“He's seventeen.”
“He has nothing to do with this.”
“Neither did I until you inserted yourself into my marriage.”
I forced myself not to respond.
Caleb gestured.
Let him talk.
“What do you want?”
“My wife.”
“No.”
Lena touched my arm.
I shook my head.
“No.”
Travis laughed.
“You might want to ask her before deciding.”
Lena mouthed, I’ll talk.
I didn't want her anywhere near the call.
But Nora nodded.
Lena took the phone.
“Travis.”
Silence.
When he finally spoke, his voice changed.
Soft.
Almost loving.
“There you are.”
I watched my daughter’s face become expressionless.
“I’m here.”
“I miss you.”
She said nothing.
“Baby, this got out of control.”
No response.
“Your father made everything worse.”
Lena closed her eyes briefly.
Then opened them.
“Where is Ethan?”
“He’s safe.”
“Let me talk to him.”
“He already talked.”
“Then let him leave.”
“You know what I need.”
“I’m not coming back.”
His voice hardened immediately.
“You are my wife.”
“No.”
The single word landed harder than a shout.
“You're upset.”
“No.”
“Your father has been filling your head—”
“No.”
His breathing changed.
I recognized it from the hospital recordings Lena had described.
The moment kindness stopped working.
“You think you're brave because police are around you?”
Lena’s fingers trembled.
But her voice did not.
“I think I’m finished being afraid of you.”
Caleb watched her carefully.
“Lena.”
“What?”
“Come home.”
“I don't have a home with you.”
He went silent.
Then Ethan cried out somewhere in the background.
Lena flinched.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing yet.”
Nora wrote:
MEETING LOCATION.
“What do you want?” Lena asked.
“You.”
“Where?”
Travis gave an address.
An abandoned factory outside Clifton Forge.
“Come alone.”
Lena looked at Nora.
Nora wrote:
AGREE.
“Okay.”
I grabbed Lena’s wrist.
She looked at me.
Trust me.
“I’ll come.”
“No police.”
“Okay.”
“No Caleb.”
“I understand.”
“You have two hours.”
The call ended.
“No,” I said instantly.
Lena handed the phone to Nora.
“I’m not actually going alone.”
“You're not going at all.”
“Dad.”
“He'll kill you.”
“He might kill Ethan.”
“And sending you won't save him.”
Caleb stepped between us.
“Nobody is sending anybody yet.”
The state police had tracked part of the call.
Not enough for an exact location.
But enough to know Travis had lied.
The call did not originate near Clifton Forge.
It came from east of us.
“He wants us looking west,” Marcus said.
Lena stared at the map.
Then something occurred to her.
“His father's workshop.”
Patricia confirmed Raymond once owned a mechanic shop outside Staunton.
The property had been sold years earlier.
But behind it was an old farmhouse belonging to Raymond’s cousin.
Investigators checked records.
The cousin died three years ago.
The farmhouse was vacant.
A helicopter thermal scan located two people inside.
One moving around downstairs.
One sitting upstairs.
Travis.
Ethan.
“We have him,” Nora said.
The tactical unit deployed.
But Travis had spent his life around men who understood police procedure.
He saw them coming.
He dragged Ethan out through a storm cellar.
By the time officers entered, they were gone.
Again.
Except this time Travis left his burner phone behind.
On purpose.
A message waited on the screen.
YOU LIED TO ME.
Lena stared at it.
Then another text appeared.
A photograph.
Ethan.
Hands tied.
Alive.
Underneath:
NOW WE DO IT MY WAY.
And a second address.
This time Lena recognized it immediately.
My construction company's oldest warehouse.
A building I had owned for twenty-two years.
Travis wasn't just choosing a location.
May you like
He was choosing mine.
He wanted me there too.
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