Chapter 8 - Ambush in the Dark
Claire grabbed Ethan’s collar, pulling him back against the cedar siding before he could step across the threshold. She held her finger to her lips, her eyes scanning the dark interior.
The cabin smelled of damp pine, old leather, and copper.
A shadow moved inside the hallway.
"Step inside, Claire," a familiar voice spoke from the darkness. "You're tracking mud all over your own hardwood floors."
The lights clicked on.
Sitting in the large leather armchair by the stone fireplace was Dr. Mercer, the county coroner who had signed Claire's death certificate. He was holding a glass of Richard’s twenty-year-old scotch in one hand and a suppressed semi-automatic pistol in the other.
Standing behind him was Deputy Miller, one of Richard’s paid precinct assets, holding a pair of heavy tactical zip-ties.
"Dr. Mercer," Claire said coldly, stepping into the doorway to keep Ethan shielded behind her back. "How much did Richard pay you to falsify my autopsy? Two million? Three?"
"Five, actually," Mercer smiled thinly, setting his glass on the coffee table. "Sixty million is a lot of money, Claire. Your family has controlled this county's wealth for three generations. It was time for someone else to hold the checkbook. Now, be a good corpse, step into the room, and hand over the locket."
"He's going to kill you too, Mercer," Ethan spoke up from behind Claire, his voice steady despite the terror clawing at his chest. "Richard doesn't leave loose ends. He shot Detective Vance right in front of twenty people at the church."
Mercer’s smile flickered for a fraction of a second, a flicker of doubt passing through his eyes before his professional smugness returned. "Vance was a sentimental fool. Richard knows I'm the only one who can sign off on the second autopsy report once we find your bodies in this burnt-down cabin."
Miller stepped forward, raising his weapon. "Enough talking. Put the kid in the chair. Let’s get the drive and torch the place."
Claire didn't move. "Ethan, the key."
Ethan’s hand was already inside his pocket. He didn't pull out the locket. He pulled out the emergency flare gun he had loaded with their final marine signaling flare while crossing the river.
"What is that—" Mercer started to say.
Ethan stepped from behind Claire, raised the flare gun with both hands, and fired directly into the antique kerosene lamp hanging from the ceiling beams directly above Mercer's head.
CRASH!
The flare shattered the glass reservoir. Forty ounces of refined lamp oil ignited instantly, raining a curtain of liquid fire down onto the leather furniture and Mercer's shoulders.
Mercer shrieked in agony, dropping his weapon as flames engulfed his jacket. Deputy Miller panicked, firing wildly into the ceiling as burning debris crashed down around him.
"The study! Move!" Claire yelled, grabbing Mercer's dropped pistol from the floor as they sprinted down the hallway toward the master office.
Ethan slammed the heavy oak study door behind them, throwing the deadbolt just as Miller threw his shoulder against the wood from the other side.
Claire rushed to the massive mahogany desk, booted up the satellite terminal, and ripped open the silver locket with her teeth. She pulled out the micro-SD card and jammed it into the encrypted card reader.
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The screen lit up with green progress bars: UPLOADING ENCRYPTED EVIDENCE PACKET: FBI FIELD OFFICE SEATTLE - 12%... 24%...
Outside the study window, the high-beam headlights of Richard’s approaching SUV swept across the glass.
