Chapter 11 - The Line in the Ash
The rapping on the door stopped. A heavy silence descended upon the cabin, broken only by the crackle of hickory logs in the cast-iron stove.
"Silas, you're harboring a fugitive and stolen corporate property," Marcus Vance’s voice filtered through the thick oak, smooth and oily. "Open the door voluntarily, or we bring the structure down around your ears. We have county deputies thirty seconds out."
Kristen stepped forward, her hand resting on Leo’s trembling shoulder. "They're bluffing about the deputies. If local law enforcement were involved, they wouldn't need to burn houses down in the middle of the night."
Silas grunted approvingly, his grip tightening on the brass poker. "She's right. Eleanor operates in the shadows because sunlight destroys her kind." He walked to the back window, pushing aside a heavy flannel curtain to peer out into the clearing. "They've surrounded the cabin. Two SUVs in front, three men cutting through the back woodlot."
"Is there another way out?" Kristen asked, scanning the rustic room for exits.
"Only the root cellar trapdoor beneath the braided rug," Silas replied, pointing toward the center of the room. "It leads to an old drainage culvert that empties out near the highway five hundred yards away. But it's flooded with icy runoff this time of year."
Kristen looked down at Maya, who was still clutching her blue flower craft, and Leo, whose eyes were wide with exhaustion. "We'll take it."
"Wait," Silas said, reaching into a wooden crate by the hearth and pulling out an old, heavy-duty encrypted satellite phone. "Take this. Dial extension seven. That connects directly to Detective Thomas Vance at the federal field office. He’s been building a RICO case against Eleanor's firm for three years, but he needed physical proof—the exact charter sitting in your tote bag."
Kristen grabbed the satellite phone, shoving it deep into her canvas bag alongside her grandfather's journal. "Thank you, Silas."
"Don't thank me yet," the old man growled, stepping toward the front door. "I'm going to buy you five minutes. When I throw this heavy iron kettle against the porch railing, drop through that trapdoor and don't look back."
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Before Kristen could argue, Silas heaved the heavy brass kettle against the front door with a deafening crash, shouting, "Get off my property, you corporate vultures!"
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