Chapter 5
A sharp knock at the front door cut through the tense silence of the kitchen. Both Helen and Julian froze. In the quiet canyons, visitors after dark were rare, and unannounced visitors usually meant process servers, creditors, or worse. Julian’s eyes darted toward the entryway where the heavy mahogany door stood closed against the gathering chill of the evening. Another knock, firmer and louder this time, rattled the frosted glass sidelights. Helen crossed her arms over her patterned shirt, her face hardening into a mask of cold resolve. "Are you expecting someone, Julian? Or did you leave another loose end untied in downtown Reno?"
Julian didn't answer. He moved quietly across the room, his hand reaching instinctively toward the heavy brass umbrella stand near the foyer. Helen caught his arm with surprising strength, her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. "No weapons, Julian. We've dug deep enough holes today." She walked past him, her footsteps steady as she approached the heavy door. She unlocked the deadbolt with a metallic click and pulled the door open just wide enough to reveal the face of the man standing on the porch. It was Arthur Vance, Julian’s former chief financial officer, holding a soggy manila envelope under his arm and shivering slightly in the mountain breeze.
Arthur looked older than he had six months ago when he abruptly resigned from the firm. His eyes were bloodshot, and his trench coat was missing a button. Without waiting for an invitation, he stepped past Helen into the foyer, bringing the smell of damp earth and cheap whiskey with him. "I saw the smoke from the ridge," Arthur said, his voice raspy as he looked from Helen to Julian, who was emerging from the living room. "Thought your house was going up in flames, Julian. Turns out you're burning evidence on trampolines now. Impressive pyrotechnics. But the federal marshals aren't going to be impressed by your backyard bonfire."
