Chapter 12
Before Julian could answer, a sharp, metallic screech echoed from outside the window, followed by the heavy thud of a vehicle door slamming shut in the gravel driveway below. Both of them froze. Julian immediately turned to his multi-monitor display, tapping the keyboard to bring up the exterior driveway camera feed.
On the screen, illuminated by the harsh white glare of motion-activated floodlights, a black SUV sat parked directly across the path from the main house. Two men in dark jackets and tactical vests were stepping out of the vehicle, moving with practiced, deliberate speed toward the front porch of the main house. One of them was holding a heavy crowbar.
"Who are they?" Julian demanded, his voice dropping into a sharp, urgent whisper. "Did you tell anyone else you were looking for the files?"
"No," Martha said, her blood running cold. "Nobody knows we have them. Unless..." She remembered the county assessor's office inquiry from three days ago—the routine tax re-assessment notice that had arrived in the mail just before Arthur rented the garage. The county records hadn't just attracted Julian; they had triggered an automated alert for the very men who had buried Thomas twenty-five years ago.
Julian didn't hesitate. He reached under his desk, pulled out a heavy-duty tactical flashlight, and grabbed his car keys. "They're not here for a tax assessment, Martha. They tracked my radar ping. They know someone is scanning the property."
"David is inside," Martha said, panic finally breaking through her restraint. She turned and bolted toward the door, throwing it open and rushing down the wooden staircase before Julian could stop her.
The cold night air hit her face like a slap as she sprinted across the lawn toward the main house. The floodlights blazed overhead, casting long, distorted shadows across the green grass. As she reached the side of the house near the gas meter—the exact spot where she had been trimming the hedge earlier that morning—she saw the front door of the house splinter inward with a loud crack.
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"David!" she screamed, abandoning all caution as she rushed toward the entrance.
Julian was right behind her, his footsteps pounding heavily on the gravel. Before Martha could reach the porch steps, the front door swung wide open, and David was pushed roughly backward onto the landing by a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a dark tactical jacket. David stumbled and fell hard against the wooden railing, gasping for air as his flannel shirt caught on a splinter.
