Chapter 3 #2
Finn pulls to a stop near what looks like the main entrance to the mine shaft.
Wooden support beams frame a dark opening that descends into the mountain.
Snow covers most of the ground, but disturbed patterns mark the white.
Fresh tracks cut through toward the mine entrance and back out again.
The edges remain crisp—recent activity, within the last few days.
"I need to unload supplies at a homesteader's cabin about half a mile up the road," Finn says. "It should take me about twenty minutes."
He's giving me time to investigate. Deliberately creating space for me to do what I came here to do while maintaining plausible deniability about what I might find.
"Twenty minutes," I confirm as I exit the vehicle.
Finn holds my gaze for a long moment. Then he drives away, taillights disappearing around the curve. I'm alone with the evidence Tom died trying to expose.
My camera comes out first. I document everything before touching anything—the tire tracks, the disturbed snow, the pattern of activity around the mine entrance. Wide-angle shots to establish context, close-ups to capture details that might matter later.
The tracks lead to a section where snow has been scraped away near the mine entrance. I follow them carefully, stepping in prints that are already there to avoid creating new evidence of my presence. Something's buried here, just under the surface layer of snow and frozen ground.
I brush away snow with gloved hands. Metal gleams underneath. A cache box, military-grade weatherproofing, secured with a lock that's been opened recently based on the lack of ice in the mechanism.
This is it. This is the kind of thing Tom must have found. Physical evidence of the trafficking operation using abandoned infrastructure as storage and transfer points.
I pull out my camera and photograph the cache from every angle.
The lock. The weathering patterns. The way it's positioned relative to the mine entrance.
Document everything before I touch anything.
The FBI training is automatic, muscle memory that survives even after the badge is gone.
Metadata recording location and conditions.
Building a case one photograph at a time, the way I always have.
I'm photographing the cache when the truck engine cuts through the silence. Finn's back early. Footsteps break through the snow crust behind me, and I look up to find him standing ten feet away, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"Find what you were looking for?" His voice is calm, almost conversational.
"You knew I'd do this." Not a question.
"The moment I dropped you off." He moves closer, boots breaking through the snow crust. "You had that look people get when they're hunting something specific. Same look Tom had when he came through asking questions."
I straighten slowly, camera still in hand. "And you gave me space to investigate. Thank you."
"Figured it was time to see what you're really after." He glances at the cache box, then back to me. "Military-grade container. Fresh activity. This is what Tom was documenting before he died, isn't it?"
My throat tightens. "I think so."
"Evidence of the trafficking network." Statement, not question.
"Yes."
Finn looks at me. "So here's what I've been trying to figure out since yesterday.
The news says you're a corrupt FBI agent who betrayed her team.
" He glances at the cache box, then back to me.
"But you just found exactly what you told me you were looking for.
Evidence of the trafficking network. Which means everything you said about being framed, about Tom, about finishing what he started is probably all true. "
"Yes," I say quietly. "All of it."
"And something like this cache has to be what Tom found before they killed him."
"Probably. Tom's notes suggested this site was significant, but I needed to see it in person to be sure."
Silence stretches between us before he asks, "So what now?"
"Now I document this and keep building the case." I meet his gaze. "Same as I've been doing."
"Alone?"
"I don't have a choice."
"You do now." His tone is firm but not unkind. "Whatever you're hunting is using my community as cover. That makes it my problem too. We figure out how deep this goes."
My breath catches. "You're going to help?"
"I've been helping since I gave you space to investigate that cache." He nods toward the box. "Document what you need. Then we head back to town and compare notes. See if what you know and what I've seen fit together."
"Just like that? You believe me?"
"I believe someone murdered Tom for investigating this network. I believe they framed you to cover it up." He holds my gaze. "And I believe you're here to stop them. That's enough."
I nod and return to photographing the cache while Finn keeps watch.
When Finn drops me at The Hollow Hearth, he doesn't drive away immediately. "I'll pick you up at the lodge at seven. We can go through everything you have at my cabin. See what we're really dealing with."
"Okay." I hesitate. "Thank you. For believing me."
"Thank me when we catch whoever killed Tom and framed you." He puts the truck in gear. "See you tonight, Cara."
I return to my room at the lodge and download the photographs from the cache site. The images are clear evidence, proof that Tom's suspicions were correct. Tonight I'll spread everything out at Finn's cabin.
Three years of running alone, piecing together fragments of a case I couldn't build from inside the system.
Three years of wondering if I'd ever find someone I could trust with the truth.
I pull out my laptop and external drives, organizing files I haven't dared share with anyone since the day I ran.
Finn believes me. That might be the most dangerous thing that's happened since I arrived in Glacier Hollow.