Chapter 3 - Shadows in the Timberline
Charlotte crouched beneath the low-hanging window of the cabin’s back study, holding her breath. The interior smelled of old paper, pipe tobacco, and damp cedar—a familiar scent that brought back childhood memories of her father teaching her how to fish off the private dock.
A man’s voice muttered curses from inside, followed by the metallic click of a laptop lid snapping shut.
""I’m telling you, the old man's body isn't the problem,"" a sharp, unfamiliar voice hissed over a secure satellite phone. ""The problem is the daughter. She came back a day early from her deployment. If she digs into the offshore accounts before the probate judge signs off on the emergency transfer, we're all looking at federal penitentiary time.""
A second voice—smooth, corporate, and sickeningly familiar—responded from the sitting room.
""Relax, Marcus,"" Victoria's attorney, Julian Vance (no relation to the sheriff), purred with arrogant calm. ""The police think Victoria acted alone out of domestic frustration. They’ll book her for elder abuse, she’ll take the fall for the cage incident, and by the time she realizes we left her high and dry, we’ll have liquidated every remaining asset into crypto wallets routed through Panama.""
Charlotte’s blood ran cold.
Julian Vance. The family lawyer for over fifteen years. The man who had managed the Hawthorne family trusts since her mother passed away.
""What about Arthur?"" Marcus asked nervously, referring to Charlotte's father. ""Did you finish cleaning up the basement?""
""Arthur is resting very peacefully beneath the old boathouse foundation,"" Julian replied with a sickening chuckle. ""Pouring quick-setting marine concrete is an art form, my friend. Nobody will ever look twice at a structural reinforcement project on a private lake.""
Outside the window, the world stopped spinning.
For a fraction of a second, the discipline of a decade of military training warred with the raw, blinding fury of a daughter whose father had been murdered in cold blood by the people he trusted most. Her hands clenched into fists so tight her fingernails broke the skin of her palms.
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She didn't hesitate.
With a single, explosive kick, Charlotte shattered the reinforced glass pane of the cabin window, diving headfirst through the frame into the study before either man could react.
