Chapter 5 - The Shadow of Walter Prescott
By dawn, the mountain was cloaked in thick pine mist.
Maya woke up in a room on the second floor of the main lodge. The bed was enormous, piled with heavy down quilts that smelled of cedar and lavender. She lay motionless for ten minutes, staring at the polished pine beams of the ceiling, convinced she was trapped in a dream from which she would abruptly awaken back on the freezing bench behind the diner.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” Maya called out, sitting up and pulling the quilt to her chest.
Martha entered, carrying a clean stack of clothes: a pair of dark blue Levi’s, a thick flannel shirt, new woolen socks, and a pair of sturdy leather work boots that looked brand new.
“Found these in the storage room,” Martha smiled warmly. “Belonged to one of our nieces. Should fit your frame. Come down to the kitchen when you’re dressed. Samuel wants to see you.”
Fifteen minutes later, Maya descended the timber stairs. The boots fit perfectly, supportive and solid under her feet. For someone who had spent months sliding around in torn canvas sneakers, feeling real leather grip the floor was like walking on solid bedrock.
The central hall was buzzing with activity. Men were studying maps laid out on a large oak table, while others cleaned tools and checked radio frequencies. At the head of the table sat Samuel, sipping black tea, with Grimm standing beside him like an iron sentinel.
“Morning, Maya,” Samuel said, gesturing to an empty chair beside him. “Eat.”
A plate piled high with scrambled eggs, thick-cut bacon, and sourdough toast was placed before her. Maya ate with quiet gratitude, every bite tasting like survival made manifest.
“Grimm’s scouts reported from town an hour ago,” Samuel said, his tone shifting into business. “Walter Prescott is moving faster than anticipated. He went to the county magistrate at midnight. He swore out an arrest warrant for you, Maya.”
Maya choked on her toast, her eyes widening in panic. “For me?! What did I do?!”
“He’s charging you with armed robbery, assault with a deadly weapon, and the attempted homicide of Chad Prescott,” Grimm growled, his knuckles cracking against the oak table. “The kid claims you pulled a knife from your backpack, tried to take his wallet, and that Samuel was your accomplice.”
“I don't even own a knife!” Maya said, her voice trembling with rising fury. “I don't have anything! They’re fabricating the whole thing!”
“Of course they are,” Samuel said calmly. “Prescott controls the magistrate, the county prosecutor, and the local paper. If he locks you in the county jail, you won't survive the weekend. You’ll have an ‘accidental fall’ in your cell, and the case will be closed. That’s how Walter keeps his son out of prison.”
Maya dropped her fork, her heart sinking into her boots. “I have to leave. I can’t put you all in danger. If the police come here—”
“Nobody is leaving,” Grimm interrupted, his voice dropping an octave, filled with absolute authority. “You stood your ground for the Boss. We don't throw our people to the wolves to save ourselves a headache.”
“Grimm is right,” Samuel agreed. “Walter wants a legal pretext to raid our compound. For ten years, he’s wanted access to our freight manifests. He suspects we know about his private smuggling pipeline through the rail yards—which we do. He’s using you as the key to unlock our gate.”
Just then, the compound’s siren wailed—a low, mournful howl that echoed through the valley.
Every man in the room stood up in unison. Conversation stopped instantly.
May you like
A young prospect burst through the front double doors, breathless, his face pale. “Boss! Vice President! We’ve got company at the lower gate! Three county cruisers and an unmarked black Suburban. It’s Prescott. And he brought State Troopers with him.”
Samuel
