Chapter 11: Under Fire
Chapter 11: Under Fire
The second shot ricocheted off the steel bridge with a deafening clang.
Sparks flew into the darkness.
Nathan grabbed Luke by the shoulder and pulled him behind one of the massive concrete supports beneath the bridge.
"Stay down!"
Luke's breathing became ragged.
"I'm sorry..."
Nathan shook his head.
"This isn't your fault."
A third shot struck the guardrail above them.
The shooter wasn't trying to scare them anymore.
Whoever it was intended to make sure neither of them left the bridge alive.
Nathan carefully peeked around the concrete pillar.
Nothing.
Only trees lining the opposite bank of the creek.
The shots had come from somewhere inside the woods.
He reached into his pocket and quietly dialed Deputy Collins.
Collins answered on the first ring.
"Nathan?"
"We're under fire."
"What?"
"Miller's Bridge."
"Are you hit?"
"No."
"Stay where you are."
The deputy's voice turned sharp.
"We're coming."
Nathan ended the call.
For nearly five minutes, silence filled the creek.
No more shots.
No movement.
Luke whispered,
"Maybe they left."
Nathan didn't answer.
He had spent too many years working in Alaska around experienced hunters to believe silence meant safety.
Sometimes silence meant someone was moving closer.
He slowly picked up a small stone and tossed it toward the opposite side of the bridge.
A gunshot exploded instantly.
The bullet shattered the rock.
Nathan nodded to himself.
The shooter was still there.
Watching.
Waiting.
In the distance, sirens finally echoed through the valley.
Blue and red lights reflected against the creek.
Within seconds, another gunshot rang out.
Then the sound of an engine roaring to life.
Deputies rushed into the woods.
Nathan waited until Collins signaled from the bridge.
"It's clear!"
Nathan helped Luke stand.
The teenager's hands were shaking uncontrollably.
Collins hurried over.
"Either of you hurt?"
Nathan shook his head.
"No."
Deputies searched the hillside with flashlights.
One of them called out.
"We found the rifle!"
Nathan walked over.
A scoped hunting rifle lay abandoned beneath a pine tree.
Nearby were fresh tire tracks leading toward an old logging road.
Collins frowned.
"They planned this."
Nathan nodded.
"They wanted Luke before he could talk."
Crime scene technicians photographed the area.
One investigator picked up a spent shell casing.
Another measured footprints in the mud.
Nathan remained beside Luke.
The teenager looked pale.
"I saw him."
Nathan turned.
"The shooter?"
Luke nodded slowly.
"Only for a second."
"What did he look like?"
"He wore a baseball cap."
Nathan waited.
"But..."
Luke swallowed.
"I recognized the tattoo on his neck."
Nathan's eyes narrowed.
"What tattoo?"
"A black snake."
Deputy Collins looked up immediately.
"I know that tattoo."
Nathan frowned.
"Who?"
Collins didn't answer until the other deputies moved farther away.
"Victor Sloan had a bodyguard."
Nathan listened carefully.
"Former Army."
"Name?"
"Marcus Kane."
Nathan had never heard it before.
"Where is he now?"
Collins looked toward the abandoned rifle.
"If I had to guess..."
He pointed toward the woods.
"...he was just here."
An hour later, Nathan and Luke sat inside the sheriff's office.
Luke finally began talking.
"I didn't know everything."
Nathan nodded.
"I know."
"But I heard things."
"Like what?"
Luke stared at the floor.
"Dad argued with Mr. Holloway a lot."
"What about?"
"The bunker."
Nathan leaned forward.
"What did they say?"
"They couldn't agree who owned whatever was inside."
Nathan exchanged a glance with Collins.
"So they knew exactly where it was."
Luke nodded.
"Dad kept saying..."
He closed his eyes, remembering.
"...'The old man moved it before he died.'"
Nathan frowned.
"The old man?"
"My grandfather."
Nathan's father.
Nathan's heartbeat quickened.
"They were looking for something."
Luke nodded.
"They never found it."
Deputy Collins entered carrying a folder.
"We identified the rifle."
Nathan looked up.
"It was stolen six months ago."
"No fingerprints?"
"Whoever handled it wore gloves."
Nathan wasn't surprised.
"What about the tire tracks?"
Collins spread several photographs across the table.
"They match a large pickup."
Nathan studied them.
The tread pattern looked familiar.
Very familiar.
Then he remembered.
The dark pickup that had watched him outside the motel on his first night back.
"I've seen those tires before."
Collins looked interested.
"Where?"
"Someone followed me."
Nathan described the truck.
Collins wrote everything down.
"We'll put out a bulletin."
Near midnight, Nathan finally returned to Emily's farmhouse.
June was waiting in the living room.
She immediately stood.
"Luke?"
"I'm alright, Grandma."
She hugged him tightly.
Then she noticed the dirt on Nathan's clothes.
"What happened?"
Nathan smiled gently.
"We had a rough evening."
She looked from Nathan to Luke.
Then she quietly said,
"They've become desperate."
Nathan nodded.
"Yes."
June walked slowly toward the fireplace.
"There was another secret."
Nathan frowned.
"What secret?"
She reached behind an old framed photograph hanging above the mantel.
Taped to the back was a tiny brass key.
Nathan stared.
"You hid that?"
"For years."
"What does it open?"
She placed the key in his hand.
"I never knew."
"Your father only said..."
Her voice softened.
"...'If Nathan ever comes home, give him this.'"
Nathan examined the tiny key.
Stamped into the metal were two words.
Box 114.
The following morning, Nathan visited First County Bank.
The lobby had barely changed in twenty years.
He approached the branch manager's office.
A young woman greeted him.
"Can I help you?"
Nathan held up the brass key.
"I need information about safe deposit box one-fourteen."
She checked the computer.
"May I have your name?"
"Nathan Reed."
The woman's expression changed.
"Please wait here."
She disappeared into a back office.
A few moments later, an older man in a dark suit approached.
"My name is Robert Gaines."
Nathan shook his hand.
"I manage the branch."
Gaines looked at the key.
"I've been expecting you."
Nathan blinked.
"Excuse me?"
The manager smiled sadly.
"Your father left very specific instructions."
Nathan felt his pulse quicken.
"What instructions?"
"If anyone other than Nathan Reed came asking for Box 114..."
He paused.
"...I was to refuse them."
Nathan stared.
"And if I came?"
The manager reached into a secure cabinet and removed a long wooden box.
"It has been waiting here for twenty-one years."
Nathan signed the required paperwork.
Gaines unlocked the box.
Inside rested a thick sealed envelope, several cassette tapes, and a small revolver wrapped in oilcloth.
Nathan carefully lifted the envelope.
Across the front, in his father's handwriting, were the words:
Nathan—Open this only if they come for the land.
Nathan looked up at the manager.
"My father knew this day might come."
Gaines nodded.
"He told me something I'll never forget."
Nathan waited.
"He said..."
The bank manager smiled sadly.
"...'The truth is safer in a vault than in the hands of men who can be bought.'"
Nathan broke the wax seal.
The first page inside made his blood run cold.
It wasn't a letter.
It was a list.
At the top were seven names.
Carl Reed.
Richard Holloway.
Victor Sloan.
Three names Nathan already knew.
But beneath them were four others.
One of those names was impossible.
May you like
Sheriff Daniel Harper.
Deputy Collins' own boss.
