Chapter 6 - THE MAYOR’S WEB
Carter’s voice bounced off the trees, loud and cruel, and I grabbed the fire poker from the hearth, my hands shaking, Maggie pulling a small handgun out of her purse—she’d had it the whole time, I realized, had been prepared for this. Jax held up a hand, motioning for us to stay back, his rifle aimed at the door. “There’s only three of them,” he whispered. “I can take the first two when they come through the door. You two cover the windows. Hale, stay down, don’t make a sound.”
We waited, silent, as the men got closer, their flashlights sweeping the cabin walls, their footsteps crunching on the gravel. One of them tried the front door, jiggling the handle, then stepped back, yelling to Carter: It’s locked. They’re in there. Carter laughed, a cold, ugly sound. “Break it down. Kill everyone inside. No witnesses.” The man slammed his shoulder into the door once, twice, the wood starting to crack, and Jax tensed, his finger on the trigger, ready to fire—when we heard the sound of more cars, sirens wailing, red and blue lights flashing through the trees, getting closer fast.
The men froze, then turned and ran for their SUV, Carter yelling Go, go, go! as they jumped in, peeling out down the dirt road, tires spinning, just as three state police cruisers came skidding around the corner, lights flashing, chasing after them. Jax lowered the rifle, letting out a breath he’d been holding, and I leaned against the wall, my legs giving out, the fire poker clattering to the floor. The state troopers were there 10 minutes later, led by a detective named Carter—no relation, he said, smiling—who took one look at the evidence spread across the table, the recorder in Maggie’s hand, and said, “We’ve been investigating Mayor Hale for two years. We just needed enough to get warrants. This? This is the nail in his coffin.”
We spent the rest of the night giving statements, telling the detectives everything: the frame job, the fake death, the attempted murders, the embezzlement, the threats to Lila. By morning, they had arrest warrants out for Reagan, Carter, Mayor Hale, and the four men who’d attacked us at the clinic and the cabin. The detective told us they’d pulled Carter’s SUV over 10 miles down the highway, arrested him and the other three men, had officers going to Reagan’s house and the mayor’s office right then to take them into custody.
I was standing on the cabin porch, drinking a cup of bad coffee, watching the sun come up over the trees, when Maggie walked over, holding her phone out to me, a smile on her face. “Your dad’s on the line. He heard what happened. He wants to see you.”
May you like
My hands shook so bad I almost dropped the phone when I took it, pressing it to my ear, my voice cracking when I said, Dad?
For a second, there was silence, then his voice, rough and tired, but there, the same voice I’d heard in my head every night for three years: Finnley, son. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I let this happen to you. I cried then, standing there on the porch, the state troopers moving around behind me, Jax clapping me on the shoulder, my dad crying too on the other end of the line, telling me how proud he was of me, how he couldn’t wait to hold me, how we were gonna fix everything, together. “We’re gonna come get you,” I said, wiping my eyes. “Today. Right now. You’re coming home.”
