Chapter 3
Lana
“Absolutely not,” I said, gesturing to his bandaged leg. “You can barely make it across the living room without wincing. Three miles to the mill is out of the question, let alone trekking through the snow to Jake’s barn right now.”
Caleb’s jaw tightened, that familiar stubborn set I was beginning to recognize. “I’m not letting you go alone again.”
“And I’m not watching you tear open your stitches because you’re being pigheaded.” I stood up, pacing the small living room. Scout’s eyes followed my movement, his head tilting in canine curiosity. “Besides, we don’t even know what we’re looking for.”
“Something valuable enough that people are willing to threaten for it,” Caleb muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Could be anything—money, documents, drugs...”
I stopped pacing. “Jake doesn’t seem like the type to be involved in anything illegal.”
“Everyone has secrets,” Caleb said quietly. “Even my brother.”
The way he said it made me wonder about his own secrets. In the short time we’d known each other, we’d been through more than most people experience in years, yet I realized how little I actually knew about him beyond his protective instincts and his irritating habit of putting himself in danger.
“Fine,” I conceded. “But we’re doing this smart.
I’ll go to the barn first, look around, and see if anything seems out of place.
You can...” I glanced around the room, spotting Ella’s laptop on the desk in the corner.
“You can research. Find out everything you can about this property, about Jake, about the mill ruins. And Margret Holloway.”
“Research from the couch. How exciting,” he deadpanned, but reached for his phone. “I’ll make some calls too. I still have contacts who can run background checks discreetly.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Contacts? From what, exactly?”
Caleb paused, his fingers hovering over his phone screen. “From before. My previous life.”
“Which was?”
“Complicated,” he answered, then sighed when he saw my expression. “Security consulting. The private sector, mostly, and some government contracts. That’s all I can say right now.”
I wanted to press further, but the tightness around his eyes told me I’d hit a wall. Whatever his ‘previous life’ entailed, he wasn’t ready to share more. And pushing now would only shut him down completely.
“Okay, security consultant,” I said, grabbing my coat again. “You do your thing. Scout and I will do ours.”
“Take my gun,” he said, reaching toward the end table drawer.
“No.” The word came out more forcefully than I’d intended. “No guns. I don’t... I can’t.”
Understanding flickered in his eyes. “Okay. But take this at least.” He pulled a small canister from his pocket. “Pepper spray. It’s the strong kind, so make sure you spray it outward if the need should arise. And keep your phone on.”
I accepted the canister, wondering exactly what he meant by the strong kind, but didn’t bother asking as I tucked it into my coat pocket. “I’ll be fine. It’s broad daylight.”
“Call me every fifteen minutes,” he insisted.
“Every thirty,” I countered.
“Twenty.”
“Deal.” I whistled for Scout, who bounded to my side. “Ready for another adventure, buddy?”
Scout’s tail wagged enthusiastically as I clipped on his leash. At the door, I turned back to find Caleb watching me intently.
“Be careful,” he said, his voice low. “If anything feels wrong—anything at all—you get out of there. Immediately.”
I nodded, touched by his concern despite its frustrating implications. “Yes, sir, security consultant, sir.”
The ghost of a smile crossed his face. “Smart ass.”
“You have no idea,” I replied, and stepped out into the cold.
The walk to Jake’s barn seemed different this time. Every rustle in the trees, every distant bird call set my nerves on edge. Scout seemed to sense my unease, staying closer than before, his ears perked and alert.
The barn door was exactly as I’d left it—locked.
I fumbled with the key Jake had given me, glancing over my shoulder before pushing the heavy door open.
Inside, everything appeared normal. The animals greeted me with familiar sounds, the momma cat weaving between my legs as if I’d been gone for days instead of hours.
“Okay,” I murmured to Scout. “Let’s look around.”
I moved methodically through the barn, checking every stall, every storage area, looking for anything unusual. What would ‘certain people’ want so badly? Money seemed most likely—perhaps cash hidden away. Or documents? Deeds, maybe, or evidence of something?
Scout wandered ahead, nose to the ground, occasionally stopping to sniff intently at seemingly random spots. In the tack room, kittens greeted me, and I couldn’t resist playing with them for a few minutes. I sighed as I put them back with their momma. “Sorry, little ones, duty calls.”
I stood and ran my hands along the walls, mindful of the kittens underfoot, feeling for loose boards or hidden compartments. Nothing.
I headed out to the feed storage area, which yielded nothing suspicious either, nor did the small office space in the corner, where Jake presumably kept farm records. I was beginning to think the note was a wild goose chase when Scout’s behavior changed.
He’d moved to the back of the barn, near the door Margret had used earlier, and was pawing insistently at the floorboards, whining softly.
“What is it, boy?” I asked, hurrying over.
The floor in this section was different—older planks, worn smooth by years of use. Scout continued pawing at a specific spot, looking up at me expectantly.
I knelt beside him, running my fingers over the boards. There was a slight gap between two planks, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it. I pressed experimentally, feeling something give. Heart pounding, I dug my fingernails into the gap and pulled upward.
The board came loose, revealing a narrow space beneath. I reached in, my fingers brushing against something cold and metallic. Carefully, I extracted a small metal box, about the size of a hardcover book.
“Good boy,” I whispered to him, who wagged his tail proudly.
The box was, of course, locked. I turned it over in my hands, looking for any identifying marks or clues. Nothing but a simple keyhole. I shook it gently—something moved inside it, but it wasn’t heavy enough to be cash. Papers, maybe?
My phone buzzed in my pocket, startling me so badly I nearly dropped the box. Caleb’s name flashed on the screen.
“You’re two minutes late,” his voice came through, deep and tense with concern.
“Sorry, I got distracted.” I stared at the box, debating how much to tell him over the phone. If the note was right about walls having ears...
“Distracted by what?” he pressed.
“I found something,” I said vaguely. “I’ll tell you when I get back. Everything’s fine.”
A pause. “You sure?”
“Positive. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
I ended the call and tucked the box into the waistband of my jeans.
It made an awkward bulge, but it would have to do.
As I replaced the floorboard, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.
I scanned the barn’s shadowy corners, half-expecting to see Margret lurking there again, but saw nothing.
“Come on, Scout,” I said, hurrying toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”
Outside, the winter sun was gone behind storm clouds. I locked the barn door and turned to leave, only to freeze in my tracks.
Fresh footprints in the snow led from the trees to the back of the barn—footprints that hadn’t been there when I arrived.
Someone had been here while I was inside.
My heart hammering, I grabbed Scout’s leash tightly and set off at a brisk pace toward Ella’s house, resisting the urge to run. Running would make me a target. Instead, I walked purposefully, scanning my surroundings, one hand on the pepper spray in my pocket.
We were halfway back when Scout suddenly stopped, hackles rising. A low growl rumbled from his chest as he stared fixedly at the tree line to our right.
I followed his gaze but saw nothing—just trees and shadows and snow. Still, I trusted his instincts more than my own eyes.
“It’s okay,” I murmured, tugging gently at his leash. “Let’s keep moving.”
As we continued, I noticed Scout was still rigid beside me, and I couldn’t relax until Ella’s house came into view, and I saw smoke curling lazily from the chimney. Caleb must have managed to stoke the fire.
The moment we stepped inside, I locked the door behind me.
“Found something interesting?” Caleb called from the living room.
I shrugged off my coat, careful to keep the box hidden against my skin as I unclipped Scout’s leash. The dog immediately trotted over to Caleb, who scratched behind his ears absentmindedly, his eyes fixed on me.
“Someone was there,” I said quietly, crossing to the couch. “Fresh footprints by the back of the barn that weren’t there when I arrived.”
Caleb straightened, wincing slightly. “Did you see who?”
“No. And Scout got spooked on the way back. He kept staring at the tree line.” I glanced toward the windows, suddenly aware of how exposed we were. Drawing the curtains closed, I added, “But I did find this.”
I pulled the box from my coat and set it on the coffee table between us.
Caleb leaned forward, eyes widening. “Where did you find it?”
“Under a loose floorboard near the back door. Scout was sniffing around it.” I sank onto the couch beside him. “It’s locked.”
“Of course it is,” Caleb muttered, lifting the box to examine it. He turned it in his hands, fingers tracing the keyhole. “The lock is a standard pin tumbler.”
I raised my brows. “Meaning?”
“It’s nothing fancy.”
“Oh. Well, can you open it?”
A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “One of my many useless talents.” He set the box down and reached for his wallet, extracting what looked like a credit card. “Got a paperclip?”
I found one in a drawer and handed it to him. With practiced movements, Caleb straightened the clip and bent the end into a small hook. He inserted it into the lock while applying pressure with the card.
“Security consultant, huh?” I remarked as I watched his fingers work with surprising dexterity.
“Among other things.” The lock clicked, and Caleb’s eyebrows rose in satisfaction. “There we go.”
My heart pounded as he lifted the lid. Inside lay a small notebook and a folded piece of paper. Caleb reached for the paper first, unfolding it carefully.
“It’s a map,” he said, spreading it on the table. “Of Jake’s property, looks like.”
I leaned closer. The hand-drawn map showed the farmhouse, barn, and outbuildings with the surrounding fields, but there were markings I didn’t recognize—X’s and circles in various locations, with numbers scrawled beside them.
“What do you think those mean?” I asked, pointing to the markings.
“Not sure.” His brow furrowed as he studied the map. “But I’d bet they’re locations for whatever those ‘certain people’ are looking for.”
I picked up the notebook next, flipping through pages of cramped handwriting. “Dates and numbers. Lots of numbers.” I turned another page. “Wait—these look like coordinates.”
Caleb grabbed his phone. “Let me see if these match up with the marks on the map.”
“You think your brother is involved in something?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“No,” Caleb shook his head. “Jake isn’t like that.”
Scout suddenly lifted his head, ears perked toward the front door. A moment later, the distinct crunch of tires on snow reached us.
“Someone’s here,” I whispered, gathering the items and shoving them back into the box.
Caleb reached for his crutches, moving surprisingly quickly to the window. He peered through a gap in the curtains. “Blue pickup truck. Woman getting out—silver hair, overalls.”
My stomach dropped. “Margret.”
“Get the box somewhere safe,” Caleb instructed, his voice low. “I’ll handle our visitor.”
I hurried to Ella’s bedroom, frantically searching for a hiding place.
The closet seemed too obvious, as did under the mattress.
Finally, I spotted the heating vent on the floor.
Working quickly, I lifted the cover and stuck my hand down into the vent.
I laid the box onto the ductwork as far as I could reach, then replaced the vent just as a knock sounded at the front door.
Taking a deep breath, I rejoined Caleb, who had positioned himself on the couch, his injured leg propped up casually as if he’d been resting all morning. He gave me a slight nod as another knock, louder this time, echoed through the house.
“Ready?” he murmured.
“No,” I admitted. “But let’s get this over with.”
I crossed to the door, Scout at my heels, and turned the knob, plastering what I hoped was a relaxed expression on my face.
Margret Holloway stood on the porch, a covered dish in her hands and a smile that looked fake.
“Hope I’m not interrupting,” she said cheerfully. “Just thought I’d bring by some fresh-baked cinnamon rolls. Welcome to the neighborhood and all that.”