Chapter 30
Caleb
The ride back to Jake’s is tense, all of us processing what just happened. I keep checking the rearview mirror, making sure we’re not being followed, though I suspect Hawthorne’s men are smart enough to keep their distance while still tracking our movements.
When we arrive, Declan, Kane, and Jake are waiting for us on the porch, with grim expressions on their faces.
“We heard about the confrontation,” Declan says as we climb out of the vehicles. “One of our surveillance teams spotted the police converging on your position.”
“Hawthorne brought the entire Pinecrest police force,” I explain, helping Lana with her pack. “And Margret was with him.”
“Margret?” Jake’s eyebrows shoot up. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It makes perfect sense,” Richard says bitterly, joining us. “She’s a Wolf. The family connection to the Hawthornes runs deeper than I realized.”
I speak up, “I don’t think that’s what it is. I think Margret wants to make sure the gold goes to the town like Thomas wanted.”
“Then she should’ve never involved Hawthorne,” Richard mutters as he passes by me.
We file into the house where Ella has coffee and breakfast waiting. As we eat, we share the details of our night—the confrontation, Margret’s betrayal, and most importantly, what we found when the equinox sun hit the wolf marking.
“Another cairn downstream,” Kane muses, studying the video Julia captured on her phone. “And it has the same wolf symbol?”
“Smaller, but yes,” Richard confirms. “I believe it’s another directional marker, but I couldn’t examine it closely without alerting Hawthorne’s men.”
“So what’s our next move?” Lana asks, looking around the table. “Hawthorne’s expecting us at his office this afternoon.”
I exchange glances with Declan, who gives me a slight nod. “We wait,” I say decisively. “Hawthorne’s watching us too closely right now. If we go back immediately, we’ll lead him straight to whatever Thomas Wolf was hiding.”
“But the equinox—” Richard begins to protest.
“Is over,” I finish for him. “But more importantly, Hawthorne has no idea what the wolf mark revealed. He doesn’t know about the cairn downstream. The alignment won’t happen again until the fall equinox, who knows if it will even show up then.”
“So we let him think we found nothing?” Julia asks.
“Exactly.” I lean forward, warming to my strategy. “We act disappointed. We meet with him, listen to whatever story he wants to sell us, and appear to lose interest in the whole thing.”
“For how long?” Lana asks, her eyes meeting mine across the table.
“A few days, at least,” I reply. “Maybe a week. Long enough for him to think we’ve moved on. Then we go back in force, with proper security, and follow that marker to wherever it leads.”
Declan nods approvingly. “It’s the right call. Hawthorne won’t be able to find anything even if he looks—not without knowing what the equinox revealed. And he’ll have to wait until the fall or next spring for that.”
The plan is met with general agreement, though Richard still looks troubled. I understand his impatience—he’s been chasing this mystery for decades, and now we’re so close. But rushing in would only put us all at risk.
“You’re sure about the meeting with Hawthorne?” Jake asks.
“Yes,” I say firmly. “Lana, Richard, and I. We hear him out, act like kids that were given a good talking down to, then get ourselves the hell out of there as quickly as possible.”
“I’m coming too,” Julia insists. “I’m part of this now.”
I don’t argue—having another witness might be useful, especially one as observant as Julia has proven to be.
The next few days pass in a strange limbo.
Our meeting with Mayor Hawthorne goes exactly as expected—he’s all smiles and false concern, spinning a tale about how the Wolf Mine tragedy was a regrettable accident that NTM has learned from.
He even offers Richard a consulting position with the company’s historical department, which Richard politely declines.
Throughout it all, we maintain the facade of researchers who’ve hit a dead end, gradually shifting our focus to other aspects of local history.
Lana spends time at the Pinecrest library, researching the early settlement period.
Julia takes tours of the town’s historical buildings.
I help Jake with farm work and make myself visible around town.
Meanwhile, most of Declan’s team has headed back to the lodge, except for a few men who continue their surveillance, confirming that Hawthorne’s people are still watching us, though with decreasing intensity as days pass.
“They’re buying it,” Kane reports on the fifth day. “Police presence around the waterfall has dropped to just one patrol every twelve hours.”
“And where is Margret?” Richard asks, his voice carefully neutral.
“Back at her ranch. She hasn’t had contact with Hawthorne since the night at the waterfall.”
I glance at Lana, who’s been staying at Jake’s since that night. We’ve shared a room, finding comfort in each other’s presence despite the tension of our situation. She catches my eye and gives me a small nod. We’re thinking the same thing—it’s almost time.
On the seventh day, we make our move. Before dawn, a small team assembles at Jake’s farm—Lana, Julia, Richard, me, and four of Declan’s best men, including Hawk. We’ve planned meticulously, establishing multiple diversion points and escape routes.
“Remember,” I tell everyone as we prepare to leave, “this is strictly exploring. We find what’s there, document it, and get out. No heroics.”
The drive to our drop point is silent, each of us lost in our thoughts. We approach the waterfall area from a different direction than before, using a rarely traveled logging road that skirts the eastern boundary of Jake’s property.
“No signs of surveillance,” Hawk reports after scouting ahead. “We’re clear to move in.”
We make our way carefully to the river, following it downstream to where Richard spotted the second cairn.
In the morning light, it’s clearly visible—a carefully arranged stack of stones, partially submerged in the flowing water.
The small wolf mark is etched into the topmost stone, pointing not downstream as we expected, but across the river toward a densely forested hillside.
“There,” Richard whispers, astonishment in his voice. “That’s where we need to go.”
We cross at a shallow point, the cold water seeping into our boots. The opposite bank rises steeply, covered in thick underbrush and towering pines. At first glance, there’s nothing remarkable about it—just another wooded hillside in a forest full of them.
But as we follow the direction indicated by the wolf mark, I begin to notice subtle signs of human intervention—stones too perfectly placed to be natural, trees growing in patterns that create a nearly invisible pathway through the underbrush.
“Thomas Wolf was a genius,” Richard murmurs as we climb. “He used the natural landscape to hide his trail, knowing that over time, nature would take over.”
After about twenty minutes of climbing, the terrain levels off, revealing a small plateau nestled between two rocky outcroppings. And there, partially hidden by vegetation, is another cairn—larger than the previous ones, with the wolf symbol prominently displayed on its face.
“It’s pointing that way,” Lana says, indicating the larger of the two rock formations.
We approach cautiously, examining the rocky surface for any sign of an entrance or passage. At first, I see nothing but solid stone and clinging moss. But then Julia calls out from several yards away.
“Guys! Over here!”
We join her at what appears to be a narrow crevice in the rock face, barely wide enough for a person to squeeze through.
“This isn’t natural,” Richard says, running his hand along the edge of the opening. “Look how clean the cut is—this was deliberately created.”
“Should we go in?” Julia asks, already pulling out her flashlight.
I hesitate, assessing the stability of the surrounding rock. “I’ll go first. Hawk, you bring up the rear. Everyone else stay between us.”
The passage is tight but navigable. I lead the way, my flashlight illuminating a narrow corridor that penetrates deeper into the hillside. After about twenty feet, the passage widens abruptly, opening into what can only be described as a cave.
My light sweeps across the space, revealing a roughly circular chamber about thirty feet in diameter.
The floor is surprisingly level, the walls showing signs of both natural formation and human modification.
But at first glance, there’s nothing here—no gold, no documents, nothing to indicate this was Thomas Wolf’s secret hiding place.
“All this way for an empty cave?” Julia says, disappointment evident in her voice as she starts taking pictures.
“There has to be more,” Richard insists, moving around the perimeter, examining every inch of the rock wall. “He wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble for nothing.”
Lana joins him, her flashlight beam crisscrossing with his as they search. I watch her work, admiring her determination despite our setbacks. Her pink hair glows almost magically in the flashlight beams, creating an otherworldly effect in the dim cave.
“Look for the wolf mark,” I suggest, running my own light along the ceiling. “It’s led us this far.”
For several minutes, we search in near silence, the only sounds our breathing and the occasional drip of water from somewhere deep in the rock. Just as frustration begins to set in, I hear Lana gasp.
“Here!” she exclaims, kneeling in the far corner of the chamber. “It’s not on the walls—it’s on the floor!”
We crowd around her, and sure enough, partially hidden beneath years of silt and dust, is another wolf marking etched into the stone floor. But this one is different—more detailed, with the wolf’s head turned to face directly upward.
“It’s pointing to the ceiling,” Julia observes, directing her light where the wolf’s gaze would fall.