Chapter 31
Lana
My heart hammers in my chest as we speed away on the ATVs, the wind whipping my hair across my face.
I’m riding behind Kane, my arms wrapped tightly around his waist, while Julia clings to Richard on another vehicle.
Caleb and Hawk bring up the rear, occasionally glancing back to ensure we’re not being followed.
The documents and gold pouches feel heavy in my backpack, physical proof of a century-old conspiracy that’s suddenly very much alive. I can barely process what we’ve found or how close we came to being caught. All I know is that we need to get somewhere safe and fast.
When we finally reach the vehicles we’d hidden as our secondary extraction point, we transfer quickly, abandoning the ATVs in favor of more practical transportation. I slide into the passenger seat beside Caleb, my hands still shaking slightly from adrenaline.
“You okay?” he asks, briefly taking his eyes off the road to search my face.
“I think so,” I say, not entirely sure if it’s true. “Did we really just find Thomas Wolf’s hidden treasure?”
“We did,” he confirms with a smile, a hint of wonder breaking through his professional demeanor. “And now we need to make sure Hawthorne doesn’t get his hands on it.”
The drive back to Jake’s feels endless, every set of headlights in the side mirror causing my stomach to clench.
By the time we finally turn onto the familiar driveway, exhaustion has settled deep in my bones, but relief is short-lived when I spot several unfamiliar vehicles parked outside the farmhouse.
“Those aren’t Declan’s,” I say, tension immediately flooding back.
“No,” Caleb agrees, his expression unreadable as he parks. “They’re RCMP.”
“Royal Canadian Mounted Police?” I stare at the official vehicles with their distinctive striping. “What are they doing here?”
“Let’s find out,” he says, squeezing my hand reassuringly before we exit the car.
As we approach the house, Declan emerges onto the porch, flanked by two officers in the unmistakable uniform of the RCMP. His expression is serious but not alarmed, which I take as a good sign.
“You made it back,” he says, relief evident in his voice. “Any problems?”
“Hawthorne showed up just as we were leaving,” Caleb reports. “We got away clean, but they know we were there.”
Declan nods, then gestures to the officers beside him. “This is Sergeant Miller and Constable Cook of the RCMP. I called them in this morning.”
“Called them in?” I echo, confused. “Why?”
“Because we need authorities who aren’t under Hawthorne’s thumb,” he explains. “The entire Pinecrest police force answers to him, directly or indirectly. This situation has escalated beyond what we can handle privately.”
Inside, the farmhouse is buzzing with activity. More RCMP officers are setting up what looks like a temporary command center in Jake’s living room. I spot Kori and Kane in deep conversation with one of them, while Ella serves coffee to others who look like they’ve been here for hours.
Jake approaches as we enter, his expression a mix of relief and concern. “Thank God you’re all back safely. Did you find anything?”
Richard steps forward, carefully removing his backpack. “Everything, Jake. Exactly where Thomas said it would be.”
One of the RCMP officers—Sergeant Miller, I think—moves closer. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Evidence of fraud, corruption, and murder dating back to 1905,” Richard confirms, placing the waterproof bag containing the documents on the table. “Along with enough gold to prove that Thomas Wolf’s claim was legitimate all along.”
The sergeant whistles low. “That’s quite a find.”
“One that nearly got us killed,” I add, unable to keep the edge from my voice. “Mayor Hawthorne showed up with reinforcements just as we were leaving.”
“That fits with what we’ve been hearing,” Constable Cook says, her sharp eyes taking in our disheveled appearance.
“Declan has briefed us on the situation—the mining company’s history, the suspicious death at the ridge, the mayor’s involvement.
It’s a lot to process, but the evidence you’ve brought back could be the key to unraveling everything. ”
Julia, who has been uncharacteristically quiet since our escape, suddenly speaks up. “So what happens now? Are you arresting the mayor? Taking over the investigation?”
“It’s not quite that simple,” Sergeant Miller explains. “We need to review the evidence, establish jurisdiction, and build a proper case. But yes, we’re taking this very seriously.”
Declan motions us toward the dining room table, where maps and documents are spread out. “We’ve been planning next steps. The RCMP has agreed to protect us while we sort through the evidence and prepare formal complaints against NTM and Hawthorne.”
“What about Margret?” Richard asks quietly, his voice betraying his lingering hurt.
“We’re still determining her level of involvement,” Constable Cook says diplomatically. “Her calling Hawthornes complicates matters, but it doesn’t necessarily make her criminally liable.”
Caleb leans forward, his tactical mind already working on the problem. “Hawthorne knows we found something. He’ll be desperate to either recover it or discredit it.”
“Which is why we’re establishing a security perimeter around both properties,” Sergeant Miller explains. “No one gets in without proper clearance, not even the Pinecrest police.”
I sink into a chair, the enormity of everything finally hitting me. “So we’re essentially under police protection now?”
“More like collaborative witnesses in an ongoing investigation,” Constable Cook clarifies with a small smile. “But yes, we’re here to ensure your safety and the integrity of the evidence.”
Ella joins us, sliding a mug of hot tea in front of me. “Drink this. You look like you need it.”
I accept gratefully, wrapping my cold fingers around the warm ceramic. “Thanks.”
As the officers begin organizing the documents we’ve retrieved, I find myself watching Caleb.
He’s engaged in intense conversation with Declan and Sergeant Miller, his face serious as he describes the hidden chamber and its contents.
Even exhausted and trail-worn, he radiates competence and strength.
When he catches me looking, his expression softens momentarily, a private acknowledgment passing between us.
“You should get some rest,” he says, breaking away from the discussion to come sit beside me. “You’ve been through a lot today.”
“We all have,” I point out, though I can’t deny the bone-deep weariness settling into me. “But I’m not sure I could sleep even if I tried. Too much adrenaline.”
He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his touch gentle. “Try anyway. We’ve got the RCMP here now. You can afford to stand down for a few hours.”
Before I can respond, the front door bursts open, and another RCMP officer hurries in. “Sergeant, we’ve got a situation. Mayor Hawthorne is at the property line with several officers and what appears to be a court order.”
The relative calm of the room evaporates instantly. Sergeant Miller straightens, his expression hardening. “What kind of court order?”
“He’s claiming it’s a search warrant for stolen property,” the officer reports. “Says these people trespassed on protected land and removed artifacts of historical significance.”
“That’s rich, coming from him,” I mutter, anger displacing my fatigue. “The only thing he’s interested in protecting is his family’s criminal legacy.”
“He’s trying to get ahead of this,” Declan observes grimly. “Casting himself as the victim before we can make our accusations public.”
Sergeant Miller exchanges a look with Constable Cook. “I’ll handle this. Cook, secure the evidence. No one touches anything until I return.”
As the sergeant strides toward the door, Caleb rises to follow. “I’m coming with you.”
“Me too,” I say, standing despite my exhaustion. I catch Caleb’s concerned glance and smile, “I’m supposed to be a journalist, remember? I should document this. And Julia should come too, she’s my cameraman.”
“I’m coming!!” Julia yells, grabbing her cellphone off the table.
The confrontation at the property line is exactly as tense as I expected. Mayor Hawthorne stands flanked by several Pinecrest police officers, his face a mask of righteous indignation that slips momentarily when he spots the RCMP sergeant approaching.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Hawthorne demands, waving a document. “This is a local police matter. You have no jurisdiction here.”
“Actually, Mayor, we do,” Sergeant Miller replies calmly. “The RCMP has jurisdiction over major fraud investigations, especially those involving corporate entities operating across provincial boundaries.”
I watch Hawthorne’s face flush with anger as he processes this information. His carefully constructed facade of civic leadership is beginning to crack under pressure.
“This is absurd,” he sputters, jabbing a finger toward Caleb and me. “These people broke into a protected historical site and removed valuable artifacts. I have every right to—”
“Those ‘artifacts’ are evidence in an ongoing federal investigation that was on private property, I might add,” Sergeant Miller interrupts, his voice firm but controlled.
“An investigation that now includes your potential involvement in covering up corporate negligence resulting in death, as well as possible conspiracy charges related to historical crimes committed by your family.”
I can’t help the small thrill of satisfaction that runs through me at seeing Hawthorne caught off guard. His eyes dart between the sergeant, Caleb, and me, clearly recalculating his approach.
“I don’t know what lies these people have been feeding you,” he says, lowering his voice to something more reasonable, more mayoral. “But Northern Tier Mining is a respected company with deep roots in this community. Whatever they claim to have found is either fabricated or taken out of context.”
“No one has been feeding us lies. But the documents appear genuine,” Sergeant Miller replies. “And they paint a rather disturbing picture of your family’s business practices, both past and present.”
Hawthorne’s jaw tightens. “Those documents, if they exist at all, were stolen from private property.” He waves a paper in the air. “Here is the property line of Jake’s ranch, which doesn’t include the waterfall or cave!”
“Actually,” I interject, unable to keep silent any longer, “they were hidden by Thomas Wolf over a century ago to protect them from your ancestors, who had already demonstrated they were willing to kill to keep their secrets. On Jake’s land.
” I pull out the original plat map showing the ranch's property lines.
Hawthorne’s cold gaze shifts to me. “Ms. Mills, isn’t it? The so-called journalist? I’ve done some checking on you. Any publication does not currently employ you. In fact, you seem to have a habit of inserting yourself into situations that don’t concern you.”
I feel Caleb stiffen beside me, but I place a hand on his arm. I can fight my own battles.
“When corrupt officials threaten the safety and well-being of communities, it concerns everyone,” I reply evenly. “Thomas Wolf understood that a century ago, and it’s still true today.”
Before Hawthorne can respond, Sergeant Miller steps between us. “Mayor, I’m going to have to ask you and your officers to leave this property. This is now a secure area under RCMP jurisdiction. If you attempt to interfere with our investigation, you’ll be facing obstruction charges.”
For a moment, I think Hawthorne might actually challenge him. The rage in his eyes is barely contained, his hands clenched at his sides. Then, abruptly, his demeanor changes. His shoulders relax, and a cold smile forms on his lips.
“Of course, Sergeant. We’ll comply with federal authorities.” He adjusts his tie deliberately. “But this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”
As Hawthorne and his officers retreat to their vehicles, I let out a slow breath. Caleb’s arm slips around my waist, a silent show of support.
“That man is dangerous,” I murmur as we watch them drive away.
“Yes, he is,” Sergeant Miller agrees, overhearing me. “And now he’s cornered. That makes him even more dangerous.”