Chapter 7 - The Ghost in the Woods
The motorboat slammed violently against a submerged log, sending a spray of icy lake water over the gunwales and soaking Julian’s suit to the skin. Marcus swore, pulling Lily tighter against his chest to protect her from the biting wind. The engine sputtered, coughed twice, and then settled into a steady, desperate hum as Julian fought to keep the bow pointed toward the muddy embankment of the old timber mill dock.
"Hold onto something!" Julian shouted over the roar of the wind, cutting the throttle as the hull scraped hard against the rotting wooden pilings of the abandoned pier.
The old timber mill looked like the skeletal remains of some prehistoric beast rising out of the dense fog. Its burnt-out wooden beams jutted into the charcoal sky like broken ribs, surrounded by towering pine trees that whispered ominously in the gale. Rusting corrugated iron sheets rattled loose in the wind, creating a haunting, metallic symphony that made Lily whimper softly.
Julian jumped out of the boat, sinking ankle-deep into the sludge, and extended a hand to help Marcus and Lily ashore. "Careful. The foundation here is unstable. Stick close to my footsteps."
They picked their way past the collapsed remains of the main sorting floor, navigating a maze of charred timber and overgrown brambles until they reached the base of the massive brick smokestack that still stood defiantly in the center of the ruins. At the base of the stack, half-hidden beneath a thick layer of decomposing pine needles and damp earth, lay a heavy iron hatch secured by a modern digital keypad.
Julian dropped to his knees, wiping the mud away from the interface. He pulled the titanium flash drive from his pocket and stared at the glowing blue port. "David said he wiped the server core, but he didn't check the hardware serial numbers. This drive isn't a weapon—it's a physical master key."
"Are you sure about that?" Marcus asked, shining the beam of his smartphone flashlight around the perimeter of the clearing. The pale light danced across the dense tree line, catching the dark, motionless shape of a late-model black SUV parked deep among the pines, its engine off, its windows tinted pitch black.
Julian’s hand froze an inch away from the keypad. He slowly stood up, turning to face the vehicle. "Marcus... did you see that car when we docked?"
"No," Marcus said, his voice dropping to a tense whisper as he set Lily down behind a thick oak trunk, placing his hand over her mouth to silence her heavy breathing. "There were no cars parked within ten miles of this reservation. The park service closed the access road a decade ago."
The driver's side door of the SUV clicked open with a muffled snap. A tall figure stepped out into the rain, wearing a dark trench coat and a wide-brimmed hat that cast their face into deep shadow. Even from fifty yards away, the silhouette was unmistakable. It wasn't Thomas, and it wasn't Arthur.
It was Sarah Vance—their cousin, who had supposedly died in a private plane crash off the coast of Vancouver five years ago, leaving behind a multi-million-dollar insurance payout that Arthur had immediately funneled into the corporate restructuring fund.
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Sarah stepped into the clearing, the beam of a high-powered tactical flashlight snapping on and blinding them with its harsh white glare. "You really should have stayed in the boardroom, Julian," Sarah’s voice rang out, cold and melodic, cutting through the storm. "Dad never liked people digging through his ashes."
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