Mayor Hawthorne steps forward, his expression a perfect mask of concerned authority. “Mr. Brennen, I understand Jake is your brother, but I’ve known him for years—Richard’s delusions are misleading him. There is no corporate conspiracy. There is no hidden gold. There are only the ramblings of a man who’s spent too long chasing ghosts.”
“Then why are you here with armed officers?” I challenge.
“Because trespassing with weapons in a watershed preserve is a serious offense,” he replies smoothly. “And because Margret informed me that Richard has become increasingly unstable, possibly dangerous.”
Julia shifts behind me, her voice a bare whisper, looking at her phone. “He’s lying. Look at his left hand.”
I glance down at the zoomed image of Hawthorne’s hand. He is wearing an unusual ring—gold, with what appears to be a stylized mining pick crossed with another tool. The exact emblem we saw in Wolf’s journals.
“The company signet,” Richard breathes behind my shoulder. “Still in the family after all these years.”
“You have two options,” Hawthorne continues, oblivious to our discovery. “Surrender now and face trespassing charges, or resist and face much more serious consequences.”
I weigh our options quickly. We’re outnumbered by what appears to be the entire Pinecrest police force. Even with Hawk and Nightingale’s skills, a confrontation would be disastrous.
“What’s your play?” Nightingale murmurs, awaiting my decision.
“We need to buy time,” I reply quietly. “The sun rises in less than two hours. If we can stall until then...”
“I’ll handle this,” Lana says suddenly, her voice steady despite the tension. Before I can stop her, she moves to the edge of our hiding spot.
“Mayor Hawthorne!” she calls down. “I’m Lana Mills, I’m a journalist with the Toronto Star. I’m here researching historical mining practices in the region. Everything we’re doing is perfectly legal investigative work.”
I see Hawthorne falter slightly, clearly not expecting to be confronted by a journalist, fake or not. “Ms. Mills, this is still restricted property.”
“Is it?” she challenges. “Because according to provincial records, this land’s ownership is disputed. We’re within our rights to be here for research purposes. And I’m very interested in why the mayor of Pinecrest is personally leading a middle-of-the-night operation against researchers.”
It’s a brilliant play—invoking her pretend professional status changes the dynamic instantly. I can see Hawthorne reassessing, picturing the potential media fallout.
“The press has no special rights to trespass,” he says, but his confidence has visibly diminished.
“Maybe not,” Lana agrees, “but we do have the right to publish what we find. Including why the Hawthorne family seems so determined to prevent access to historical sites related to Thomas Wolf.”
Margret steps forward, placing a restraining hand on Hawthorne’s arm. They exchange words I can’t hear, their faces tight with tension.
“What are they saying?” I ask Hawk, who has the best vantage point.
“Something about ‘not worth the exposure’ and ‘find another way,’” he replies.
After a moment, Hawthorne raises his voice again. “Very well, Ms. Mills. Perhaps we can reach an agreement. I propose we all meet at my office tomorrow afternoon to discuss this situation civilly.”
“They’re backing down,” I murmur, surprised but suspicious.
“Not backing down,” Julia whispers. “Changing tactics.”
She’s right. This is too easy.
“We accept your invitation, Mayor,” Lana replies carefully. “Provided we’re allowed to complete our research here undisturbed.”
Hawthorne’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course. Scientific and historical research is valuable to our community.My officers will withdraw to the perimeter to ensure your safety.”
With visible reluctance, he signals the police to pull back. They retreat into the trees into the treeline, but I know they aren’t going far. Margret lingers a moment longer, her eyes fixed on Richard with a mixture of contempt and something that might be regret.
“You should have trusted me,” she says before turning to follow Hawthorne.
When they’re out of earshot, I pull everyone back into our alcove. “They’re still watching,” I whisper. “This changes nothing except giving us a reprieve.”
“What do we do now?” Julia asks, her earlier enthusiasm completely subdued.
