The confrontation at the property line is exactly as tense as I expected. Mayor Hawthorne stands flanked by several Pinecrestpolice officers, his face a mask of righteous indignation that slips momentarily when he spots the RCMP sergeant approaching.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Hawthorne demands, waving a document. “This is a local police matter. You have no jurisdiction here.”
“Actually, Mayor, we do,” Sergeant Miller replies calmly. “The RCMP has jurisdiction over major fraud investigations, especially those involving corporate entities operating across provincial boundaries.”
I watch Hawthorne’s face flush with anger as he processes this information. His carefully constructed facade of civic leadership is beginning to crack under pressure.
“This is absurd,” he sputters, jabbing a finger toward Caleb and me. “These people broke into a protected historical site and removed valuable artifacts. I have every right to—”
“Those ‘artifacts’ are evidence in an ongoing federal investigation that was on private property, I might add,” Sergeant Miller interrupts, his voice firm but controlled. “An investigation that now includes your potential involvement in covering up corporate negligence resulting in death, as well as possible conspiracy charges related to historical crimes committed by your family.”
I can’t help the small thrill of satisfaction that runs through me at seeing Hawthorne caught off guard. His eyes dart between the sergeant, Caleb, and me, clearly recalculating his approach.
“I don’t know what lies these people have been feeding you,” he says, lowering his voice to something more reasonable, more mayoral. “But Northern Tier Mining is a respected companywith deep roots in this community. Whatever they claim to have found is either fabricated or taken out of context.”
“No one has been feeding us lies. But the documents appear genuine,” Sergeant Miller replies. “And they paint a rather disturbing picture of your family’s business practices, both past and present.”
Hawthorne’s jaw tightens. “Those documents, if they exist at all, were stolen from private property.” He waves a paper in the air. “Here is the property line of Jake’s ranch, which doesn’t include the waterfall or cave!”
“Actually,” I interject, unable to keep silent any longer, “they were hidden by Thomas Wolf over a century ago to protect them from your ancestors, who had already demonstrated they were willing to kill to keep their secrets. On Jake’s land.” I pull out the original plat map showing the ranch's property lines.
Hawthorne’s cold gaze shifts to me. “Ms. Mills, isn’t it? The so-called journalist? I’ve done some checking on you. Any publication does not currently employ you. In fact, you seem to have a habit of inserting yourself into situations that don’t concern you.”
I feel Caleb stiffen beside me, but I place a hand on his arm. I can fight my own battles.
“When corrupt officials threaten the safety and well-being of communities, it concerns everyone,” I reply evenly. “Thomas Wolf understood that a century ago, and it’s still true today.”
Before Hawthorne can respond, Sergeant Miller steps between us. “Mayor, I’m going to have to ask you and your officers to leave this property. This is now a secure areaunder RCMP jurisdiction. If you attempt to interfere with our investigation, you’ll be facing obstruction charges.”
For a moment, I think Hawthorne might actually challenge him. The rage in his eyes is barely contained, his hands clenched at his sides. Then, abruptly, his demeanor changes. His shoulders relax, and a cold smile forms on his lips.
“Of course, Sergeant. We’ll comply with federal authorities.” He adjusts his tie deliberately. “But this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”
As Hawthorne and his officers retreat to their vehicles, I let out a slow breath. Caleb’s arm slips around my waist, a silent show of support.
“That man is dangerous,” I murmur as we watch them drive away.
“Yes, he is,” Sergeant Miller agrees, overhearing me. “And now he’s cornered. That makes him even more dangerous.”
Chapter 32
Caleb
I watch them drive away, a knot forming in my stomach. Hawthorne’s parting words weren’t just empty threats—they were a promise. A cornered man with generations of power behind him won’t go down without a fight.
“We should get back,” I tell Lana, keeping my arm around her waist as we turn toward the farmhouse. “The sergeant needs to see everything we found.”
As we walk back, I can’t help scanning the tree line, an old habit from my military days that’s serving me well now. Nothing seems out of place, but the prickling sensation between my shoulder blades tells me we’re being watched.
Inside, the atmosphere has transformed completely from the usual warmth of Jake’s home into something resembling a tactical operations center. RCMP officers move with practiced efficiency, setting up communications equipment and securing the perimeter. It reminds me of forward bases I’ve operated from in conflict zones—organized chaos with a clear purpose.
“Declan,” I call, spotting him conferring with Constable Cook over the documents we recovered. “What prompted the RCMP call? Not that I’m complaining.”
Declan looks up, his expression grim but satisfied. “After what happened at the waterfall with Hawthorne and his police force, I realized we needed authorities who couldn’t be bought or intimidated locally. I have contacts who expedited things once I explained the situation.”
“Smart move,” I acknowledge, impressed but not surprised. Declan has always been several steps ahead when it comes to calculated thinking.
“I figured we needed the outside police force,” he continues, gesturing around the room. “Local law enforcement is too compromised. The mayor has had decades to install loyal people throughout the system.”
