Chapter 11 #2
“And what is the ‘right thing’?” Caleb asks, his voice cool.
Before Margret can answer, Scout’s head whips toward the entrance, his growl deepening into a warning bark.
“Someone’s coming,” I whisper, my heart suddenly pounding.
Caleb moves swiftly despite his injury, positioning himself where he can see both Margret and the doorway. “Is this a setup?” he demands.
“No!” Margret looks genuinely alarmed. “I came alone, I swear.”
The sound of approaching footsteps grows louder, crunching through the snow. Then a familiar figure appears in the doorway, silhouetted against the bright outside light.
“Julia?” I call out, surprised. “I thought you were staying with the UTV.”
She steps into the mill, snowflakes clinging to her dark hair. “I went and grabbed some stuff from my car and saw someone else approaching down the road,” she explains breathlessly. “A blue pickup truck, and I thought I should warn you.”
Margret’s face pales. “We need to go. Now.”
“Why?” Caleb demands, his gun still at the ready. “Who’s coming?”
“Someone who won’t hesitate to kill for what Thomas Wolf left behind,” Margret says grimly. “My nephew, Danny. He doesn’t know about the ammunition box yet, but he knows I’ve been looking for the gold, and he’s been following me.”
Julia moves closer, her eyes wide. “Is he dangerous?”
“Very,” Margret confirms. “He’s already killed once for this treasure.”
A chill runs down my spine that has nothing to do with the cold. “Killed who?”
“My brother—his father.” Margret’s expression hardens. “It was ruled an accident, but I know better. Danny pushed him off the ridge behind our property last summer when they were arguing about the treasure.”
The sound of a car door slamming outside spurs us into action.
“Back exit?” Caleb asks Margret.
She nods, pointing toward a narrow doorway half-hidden behind collapsed beams. “Through there. It leads to the creek path.”
“Go,” Caleb orders, motioning for Margret and Julia to move. “Lana, you too. I’ll be right behind you.”
I hesitate, not wanting to leave him alone. “Caleb—”
“I’m fine,” he insists. “Scout, go with Lana.”
The dog whines but obeys, staying close to my side as I reluctantly follow Margret and Julia toward the back exit. The doorway is partially blocked by debris, forcing us to squeeze through one at a time. Margret goes first, then Julia.
As I’m about to duck through, I hear heavy footsteps entering the main room of the mill.
“Aunt Margret?” a male voice calls out. “I know you’re in here. Your truck’s outside.”
I freeze, looking back at Caleb. He motions urgently for me to continue through the doorway, but I can’t leave him alone with his injured leg.
“Go,” he mouths silently.
Instead, I press myself against the wall beside the doorway, out of sight but still inside the mill. If Caleb thinks I’m going to abandon him to face an armed killer alone, he doesn’t know me very well.
“She’s not here,” I hear Caleb say, his voice calm and authoritative. “Just me.”
“Who the hell are you?” the man—presumably Danny—demands.
“Someone who doesn’t want any trouble,” Caleb replies. “I’m just exploring the old mill. Taking photos.”
“Where’s your camera?”
There’s a pause, and I can imagine Caleb mentally kicking himself for the weak lie.
“In my backpack,” he says finally. “Look, I don’t know who you’re looking for, but—”
“Cut the crap,” Danny snaps. “You’re staying at Ella’s place with that woman. You’ve been snooping around Jake’s property. What did my aunt tell you?”
I peer carefully around the doorframe, getting my first glimpse of Danny.
He’s younger than I expected—mid-thirties maybe—with Margret’s silver hair cropped short and cold eyes that remind me of a shark’s.
He’s holding a hunting rifle, not quite pointing it at Caleb, but not quite holding it casually either.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Caleb says. “I’m just here for physical therapy. Walking helps my leg heal.”
Danny’s eyes narrow. “You expect me to believe that? In the middle of a snowstorm?”
“The storm’s cleared, it’s just the wind now,” Caleb shrugs. “And I was going stir-crazy in that house.”
I can see Caleb’s hand inching toward his back, where his gun is tucked into his waistband. If he makes a move, Danny might shoot. I need to create a distraction.
Looking around desperately, I spot a piece of broken machinery near my feet. Without giving myself time to reconsider, I kick it hard, sending it clattering across the floor on the other side of the room.
Danny whirls toward the sound, his rifle swinging away from Caleb.
“What the—”
The distraction works. In one fluid motion, Caleb draws his gun and aims it at Danny.
“Drop the rifle,” he commands, his voice ice-cold. “Now.”
Danny freezes, clearly weighing his options.
“Don’t even think about it,” Caleb warns. “I won’t hesitate.”
Something in his tone must convince Danny, because after a tense moment, he slowly lowers his rifle to the floor.
“Kick it away,” Caleb orders.
Danny complies, sending the weapon skittering across the dusty floor.
“Now, back up. Hands where I can see them.”
As Danny takes a step backward, I emerge from my hiding place. Caleb’s eyes flick to me briefly, a mixture of relief and exasperation in them.
“I told you to go,” he mutters.
“And leave you to have all the fun?” I reply, trying to keep my voice light despite my racing heart.
Danny’s eyes dart between us. “Who the hell are you people?”
“Friends of Jake’s,” I say simply. “And we know about the treasure.”
His expression darkens. “Whatever my aunt told you is a lie. That gold belongs to my family.”
“The gold belongs to whoever owns the land it’s on,” Caleb counters. “Which happens to be Jake Brennen.”
Danny’s laugh is bitter. “That land should have been ours. My grandfather tried to buy it for years, but old man Jenkins refused to sell. Said he promised it to his daughter, but the daughter never wanted it and sold it to Brennen.”
“The point is,” Danny continues, his eyes cold, “that treasure is our family legacy. Thomas Wolf was my great-great-grandfather.”