Chapter 7
Caleb
We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes; the only sounds were the howling wind outside and Scout’s occasional snoring.
It felt strangely normal, this moment of quiet domesticity amidst the chaos of the past few days.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d shared a meal like this with someone—no agenda, no mission parameters, just.. . being.
“You never did tell me,” Lana said suddenly, breaking the silence. “What kind of ‘security consultant’ carries a gun and knows how to pick locks?”
I met her gaze, considering how much to reveal. There was something about her that made me want to tell her things I rarely shared. Maybe it was the way she looked at me—direct, unflinching, like she could handle whatever truth I might offer.
“The kind who used to work for people who don’t officially exist,” I said finally. “Joint task forces, special operations, places where the rules get... flexible.”
Her eyebrows raised slightly, but she didn’t look surprised. “Military?”
“Started there. Then the private sector. Then somewhere in between.” I took another bite, chewing slowly. “I was good at it. Too good, maybe.”
“What made you stop?”
The question hit harder than I expected. Images flashed through my mind—blood on concrete, a phone call in the night, Jake’s voice telling me to come home.
“A job went sideways,” I said, the words feeling inadequate for the weight they carried. “People died who shouldn’t have. I realized I’d crossed lines I never thought I would.” I set down my fork, my appetite suddenly diminished. “So I walked away and went to help Mikhail.”
Lana nodded, her expression thoughtful rather than judgmental. “And now you’re here, recovering from a gunshot wound and hunting for century-old treasure.”
I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped me. “Life takes some interesting turns.”
“Tell me about it,” she murmured, and I wondered about her own story—the parts she hadn’t shared yet.
The lights flickered suddenly, the house groaning as a particularly strong gust of wind slammed against it. We both looked up at the ceiling, then at each other.
“Power might go out,” I said, already mentally cataloging the supplies we’d need. “There should be more firewood on the back porch, and I saw lanterns in the hall closet.”
“I’ll get them,” Lana said, rising from her chair. “You should stay off that leg.”
I started to protest, but stopped myself. She was right, and my stubborn pride wasn’t worth the setback. “Thanks,” I said instead, leaning back in my chair.
As she moved toward the closet, the lights flickered again, then went out completely. The house was plunged into darkness, save for the orange glow from the fireplace in the living room.
“Well, that didn’t take long,” her voice came from somewhere to my left.
“Hold on,” I said, pulling out my phone to activate the flashlight. The beam cut through the darkness, illuminating her face. She looked different in this light—softer somehow, her features cast in gentle shadows.
A loud thud from the front porch made us both freeze. Scout was immediately alert, on his feet, and growling toward the door.
“What the hell was that?” Lana whispered, moving closer to me.
I reached for my gun, the weight of it familiar and reassuring in my hand. “Stay here,” I said quietly, using the table to push myself upright.
“Caleb —”
“I’m fine.” I nodded toward the ammunition box. “Hide that, just in case.”
Moving as silently as possible, I made my way to the front window, staying to the side to avoid being silhouetted against the firelight. Outside, the storm raged, snow swirling in violent eddies. At first, I saw nothing unusual—just the white landscape and the shadows of trees bending in the wind.
Then I dropped my gaze to the porch steps.
I tensed, raising my gun slightly. There, on the bottom step, was a figure wearing a heavy coat with the hood pulled up, making it impossible to identify them in the darkness and swirling snow.
“Stay back,” I whispered to Lana, feeling her presence close behind me.
The figure reached out, grasping at the air. That’s when I noticed they were hunched over, moving with difficulty. Not threatening—injured, maybe, or exhausted.
“Hello?” a woman’s voice called out, barely audible over the howling wind. “Is anyone there? Please...”
I lowered my gun slightly but kept it ready. The voice didn’t sound like Margret’s—it was younger, more desperate.
“Who is it?” I called through the door.
“Please,” the voice came again, this time weaker. “I need help. My car... the storm...”
I glanced at Lana, who stood a few feet behind me, her face illuminated by the faint glow from the fireplace. Scout had moved to her side, still alert but no longer growling.
“Could be a trap,” I murmured.
Lana bit her lip, then nodded toward the window. “Look at how she’s huddled there. That’s not someone faking. That’s someone close to freezing to death.”
I peered out again. The figure had now collapsed onto the bottom porch step, head bowed against the relentless snow. My instincts warred with each other—the trained operative in me screaming caution, while something else, something I thought I’d buried long ago, urged compassion.
“Cover me,” I said, handing Lana my phone with its flashlight still on. “If anything seems off, you slam this door shut, understand?”
She nodded, taking the phone and positioning herself where she could see past me once the door opened.
Pain shot through my leg as I unlocked the door and pulled it open. The wind immediately rushed in, carrying snow and bitter cold. I squinted against it, keeping my weight on my good leg.
“Hey!” I called out. “Are you okay?”
The figure on the steps slowly lifted her head. The hood fell back slightly, revealing the face of a young woman, perhaps in her mid-twenties. Her lips were blue with cold, her cheeks red and raw from the wind. She didn’t look dangerous—she looked half-dead.
“My car...” she managed, her teeth chattering violently. “Slid off... the road. Phone... dead.”
“Shit,” I muttered, holstering my weapon. This wasn’t a threat; it was an emergency. “Lana, help me get her inside.”
Lana didn’t hesitate. She handed me back my phone and moved past me onto the porch, kneeling beside the woman. Together, we helped her to her feet and guided her inside, Scout watching warily from the living room.
Once the door was shut against the storm, I got a better look at our visitor in the firelight. She was soaked through, shivering uncontrollably, her dark hair plastered to her face. She had no visible injuries, but hypothermia was a real concern.
“Blankets,” I said to Lana, who was already moving toward the linen closet. “And see if there are any dry clothes that might fit her.”
The woman swayed on her feet, and I caught her elbow to steady her.
“Let’s get you by the fire,” I said, guiding her toward the living room. “I’m Caleb. That’s Lana. What’s your name?”
“J-Julia,” she stammered, allowing me to lead her to the couch. “Julia Smith. I was driving to Pinecrest when the storm hit. I couldn’t see the road...”
“How far did you walk?” I asked, helping her remove her wet coat. Beneath it, her clothes were soaked as well.
“I don’t know. It felt like forever.” She looked up at me with exhausted eyes. “Thank you for letting me in. I thought I might...”
“Die out there?” I finished when she trailed off. “Yeah, that was a possibility. You’re lucky you found us.”
Lana returned with an armful of blankets and what looked like sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt. “These should work. The bathroom is down the hall if you want to change. There are towels in there, too.”
Julia nodded gratefully, but when she tried to stand, her legs buckled. I caught her before she could fall, grimacing as my own injury protested the sudden movement.
“I’ve got her,” Lana said, slipping under Julia’s arm. “Come on, let’s get you warmed up.”
As Lana helped her toward the bathroom, I sank into an armchair, rubbing my thigh.
The day’s exertions had taken their toll, and now this.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.
The timing was too convenient—a stranger appearing at our doorstep during a power outage, in the middle of a snowstorm, right after we’d discovered evidence of hidden treasure.
Scout seemed to share my suspicion. He’d moved to sit by my chair, his attention fixed on the hallway where they had disappeared.
“What do you think, boy?” I murmured, scratching behind his ears. “Coincidence or complication?”
The dog’s ears twitched, but he offered no opinion beyond a soft whine.
I pulled out my phone, checking the signal—nothing. The storm had knocked out cell service and power. We were cut off, isolated with a stranger who might or might not be what she seemed.
The bathroom door opened, and Lana emerged, followed by Julia in dry clothes. The young woman looked marginally better—less like a drowned rat and more like an exhausted, frightened human. Her dark hair was wrapped in a towel, and she clutched a blanket around her shoulders.
“Feel any warmer?” I asked as Lana guided her back to the couch.
She nodded, sinking onto the cushions with visible relief. “Much. Thank you both. I don’t know what would have happened if...”
“Don’t think about that,” Lana said, arranging another blanket over her legs. “You’re safe now.”
I watched Julia carefully, searching for any hint that she might be more than a stranded motorist. Her eyes were clear despite her exhaustion, taking in the room with genuine curiosity rather than with calculation, as Margret had.
“So, Julia,” I said, keeping my tone casual, “what brings you out in the middle of a snowstorm?”
“Job interview,” she replied, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders.
“I’m a veterinary technician. There’s a clinic in Pinecrest that’s hiring.
I was supposed to meet with them tomorrow morning.
” She sighed, looking toward the window where snow continued to pile against the glass. “Guess that’s not happening now.”
“Probably not,” I agreed. “Where were you coming from?”
“Colchester. About three hours east of here in good weather.” She glanced between us. “Do you two live here? I wasn’t expecting to find anyone this far out.”
“We do,” Lana answered before I could.
Smart, I thought. Giving enough information to seem cooperative without revealing anything.
“Lucky for me,” Julia said with a weak smile. “Is there any chance I could use a phone? My parents will be worried sick when they can’t reach me.”
“Power’s out,” I said. “And cell service, too. We’re pretty much isolated until the storm passes.”
Julia’s shoulders slumped. “How long do you think the storm will last?”
“Hard to say. Could be a few hours, could be a day or two.” I shifted in my chair, stretching my leg out carefully. “We’ve got plenty of firewood and food, though. You’re welcome to wait it out here.”
“Thank you,” she said, genuine gratitude in her voice. “I promise I won’t be any trouble.”
Lana caught my eye, and I could read the silent question there: Do we trust her?
I gave a small, almost barely visible shrug. For now, we had no choice. She was here, and we couldn’t exactly throw her back into the blizzard. But that didn’t mean we had to let our guard down.
“I’ll make some tea,” Lana said, standing up. “Something hot will help warm you from the inside.”
“I’ll help,” I offered, reaching for my crutches. My leg was throbbing now, the day’s exertion and the recent excitement pushing it past its limit.