Chapter 32
Caleb
I watch them drive away, a knot forming in my stomach. Hawthorne’s parting words weren’t just empty threats—they were a promise. A cornered man with generations of power behind him won’t go down without a fight.
“We should get back,” I tell Lana, keeping my arm around her waist as we turn toward the farmhouse. “The sergeant needs to see everything we found.”
As we walk back, I can’t help scanning the tree line, an old habit from my military days that’s serving me well now. Nothing seems out of place, but the prickling sensation between my shoulder blades tells me we’re being watched.
Inside, the atmosphere has transformed completely from the usual warmth of Jake’s home into something resembling a tactical operations center.
RCMP officers move with practiced efficiency, setting up communications equipment and securing the perimeter.
It reminds me of forward bases I’ve operated from in conflict zones—organized chaos with a clear purpose.
“Declan,” I call, spotting him conferring with Constable Cook over the documents we recovered. “What prompted the RCMP call? Not that I’m complaining.”
Declan looks up, his expression grim but satisfied. “After what happened at the waterfall with Hawthorne and his police force, I realized we needed authorities who couldn’t be bought or intimidated locally. I have contacts who expedited things once I explained the situation.”
“Smart move,” I acknowledge, impressed but not surprised. Declan has always been several steps ahead when it comes to calculated thinking.
“I figured we needed the outside police force,” he continues, gesturing around the room. “Local law enforcement is too compromised. The mayor has had decades to install loyal people throughout the system.”
Jake joins us, handing out much-needed cups of coffee. “They’ve been here since about noon. Declan filled them in on everything—the mine collapse, the documents at the mill, Jeff’s death, the mayor’s involvement in the cover-up.”
I take a grateful sip, the hot liquid reviving me slightly after our hasty retreat through the woods. “And they believed it all? Just like that?”
“Not just like that,” Constable Cook interjects, her sharp eyes assessing me. “We’ve had NTM on our radar for some time. Environmental violations, worker safety concerns, unusual patterns of political influence. Your evidence is connecting dots we’ve been trying to align for years.”
Richard carefully lays out the documents we retrieved from the hidden chamber, handling the yellowed papers with respectful care. “These provide the historical context for everything happening now. The Hawthorne family built their empire on fraud and violence from the very beginning.”
“And they’ve maintained it the same way,” I add, thinking of Jeff’s suspicious death, the armed confrontation at the waterfall. “Nothing’s changed in a hundred years except their methods have gotten more sophisticated.”
Sergeant Miller returns from the confrontation with Hawthorne, his expression tight with concern. “That man is going to be a problem. He’s already making calls—I could see it as he was driving away.”
“What’s our timeline?” I ask.
“Twenty-four hours, maybe less,” the sergeant replies. “We need to process the evidence and get statements from everyone involved. Once we have enough to move forward with formal charges, we can contain him.”
I exchange glances with Declan, both of us recognizing the vulnerability in that plan. Twenty-four hours is an eternity when you’re dealing with someone desperate and well-connected.
“We should double the security border,” I suggest. “Hawthorne won’t just be making legal moves. He’ll try something more direct if he thinks he can get away with it.”
Declan nods in agreement. “I’ve already positioned teams at key access points. No one approaches either property without us knowing about it.”
I look around the room, taking in the focused activity, the determination on everyone’s faces.
We’ve come so far since that first day at the mine when Lana and I were just acquaintances thrown together by circumstance.
Now we’re at the center of exposing a century of corruption, with the weight of federal law enforcement behind us.
“What are you thinking?” Lana asks quietly.
“That Hawthorne has another play we’re not seeing yet,” I admit. “He gave up too easily at the property line.”
“You think he’s planning something?”
“I know he is,” I reply, the certainty settling in my gut. “The question is what—and when.”
The next few hours blur together as we work with the RCMP to document everything we found at Thomas Wolf’s hidden chamber.
The gold is cataloged and secured, each pouch and ingot photographed and weighed.
The documents prove even more valuable, providing clear evidence of the deception perpetrated by the Hawthorne family and the subsequent cover-up that has continued for generations.
As night falls, Sergeant Miller calls us together for a briefing. The farmhouse living room is crowded with RCMP officers, half of Declan’s security team, and our core group—Jake, Ella, Kane, Kori, Richard, Julia, Lana, and me.
“We have enough to move forward with a formal investigation into NTM and Mayor Hawthorne,” the sergeant announces. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll be executing search warrants at the NTM offices, the mayor’s residence, and Pinecrest town hall.”
“What about Margret?” Richard asks, his voice strained. The betrayal still cuts deep for him.
“We’ll be questioning her as well,” Constable Cook confirms. “But at this point, we’re treating her more as a witness than a suspect. We believe that Margret's intentions were good and that Hawthorne brainwashed her.”
Richard nods, a thoughtful expression on his face.
I catch Lana stifling a yawn beside me and realize how exhausted she must be—how exhausted we all are. The adrenaline that carried us through our escape from the hidden chamber has long since worn off, leaving bone-deep fatigue in its wake.
“We should all get some rest,” I suggest. “Tomorrow’s going to be another long day.”
There’s general agreement, and people begin dispersing to their assigned sleeping areas. Jake’s farm has become an impromptu barracks, with RCMP officers and security personnel taking shifts for night watch.
I find Lana in the kitchen, staring out the window into the darkness. “Penny for your thoughts?” I ask, coming to stand beside her.
“I was just thinking about Thomas Wolf,” she says softly. “He never got to see justice done. He died knowing the truth but unable to reveal it.”
I slip my arm around her shoulders, drawing her against my side. “But he made sure someone would eventually. He believed enough in justice to create an elaborate puzzle that lasted a century.”
“And now it’s up to us to finish what he started,” she concludes, leaning into me.
“We will,” I promise, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Get some sleep. I’ll be up for a while yet.”
After seeing Lana settled in the guest room, I joined Declan and Sergeant Miller for a final security review. We go over the perimeter defenses, communication rules, and response plans for various scenarios. By the time we finish, it’s well past midnight.
Instead of heading to bed, I step outside onto the porch. The night is clear and cold, the stars scattered across the sky like diamonds. I breathe deeply, letting the crisp air clear my head as I scan the darkened landscape.
But I still feel uneasy. Hawthorne’s retreat was too easy, his acceptance of the RCMP’s authority too smooth for a man whose family has operated above the law for generations. He’s planning something—I can feel it.
I just hope we’re ready when it comes.