Chapter 5 - The Lake House of Shadows
The Sikorsky helicopter sliced through the torrential rainstorm, its twin turbine engines roaring as it hovered five hundred feet above the dense, dark pine forests of Silver Lake, Michigan.
Down below, hidden deep within a secluded cove surrounded by towering timber, sat a sprawling stone-and-timber lodge. A single black SUV was parked in the muddy driveway, and dim yellow lights flickered behind the reinforced glass windows.
Inside the helicopter cabin, Graham, Claire, and four of Graham’s top tactical operators adjusted their night-vision gear and radio links.
“We drop on the south lawn,” Graham ordered over the headset, checking the magazine of his customized tactical rifle. “No loud explosives unless I give the command. Sloan is desperate. If he realizes he’s surrounded, he’ll use Owen as a shield.”
“Let me go in first,” Claire said, her voice steady as she adjusted her rain coat over her gown.
Graham stopped, staring at her in shock. “Are you insane? You’re not going in unarmed!”
“I’m not going in to fight his guards, Graham,” Claire explained rapidly, leaning close so only he could hear. “Sloan knows you’re coming with firepower. If he sees your men storming the doors, he’ll panic. But if I walk up to that glass terrace alone—looking like I came to bargain or offer the flash drive—his attention will be entirely on me. That gives you and Ethan sixty seconds to breach the rear wing where Owen is being held.”
Graham’s jaw clenched. The thought of putting Claire in Everett Sloan’s sightline made his blood run cold. “No. I won't risk your life.”
“You aren't risking it,” Claire said, taking his large hand and pressing the encrypted flash drive into his palm. “You trusted Natalie. Now trust me. I am Thomas Morgan’s daughter, Graham. I don't break.”
Graham looked into her fierce hazel eyes, seeing the unbreakable spirit that had tamed his traumatized son and brought truth back into his home. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers in the dim cabin light.
“Sixty seconds, Claire,” Graham whispered hoarsely. “If he raises a weapon at you, I shoot him through the glass.”
“Deal,” she murmured.
Three minutes later, the helicopter banked low over the tree line, dropping two fast-ropes onto the wet grass of the south lawn. Graham and his team slid down silently into the storm, melting into the dark shadows of the pine trees.
Claire stepped down onto the muddy ground.
She pulled off her rain jacket, exposing the torn emerald velvet gown beneath. Rain instantly drenched her auburn hair, plastering it to her face, but she held her chin high, her shoulders back, walking straight across the open lawn toward the lit French doors of the lake lodge’s grand living room.
Through the glass, she saw Everett Sloan pacing back and forth, holding a glass of bourbon in one hand and a cellular phone in the other.
Claire raised her fist and slammed it against the glass door.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Everett spun around, drawing a small pistol from his jacket. When he saw Claire standing in the pouring rain, alone, soaked, and defiant, his eyes opened wide in utter astonishment.
He unlocked the latch and pulled the door open, the howling wind blowing rain into the warm room.
“Miss Morgan?” Everett gasped, his gun pointed directly at her chest. “How... how did you find this place?”
“You left your dead driver’s name on the property deed, Everett,” Claire said smoothly, wiping the rainwater from her eyes as she stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. She looked around the rustic room. “Where is the boy?”
Everett let out a dark, breathless laugh, his finger twitching near the trigger. “You came here alone? For the child? You really are a foolish, sentimental woman. Graham sent his housekeeper to do a man’s job?”
“Graham didn't send me,” Claire lied, stepping closer to him, keeping his full attention locked on her face. “I came because I have the original Zurich manifests from Natalie’s locker. Graham doesn't have them. I hid the physical copies before we went to the gala.”
Everett paused, his greedy eyes flashing with sudden hope. “Where are they?”
“They’re in a safe deposit box in Chicago,” Claire said, her voice calm, measured, and completely convincing. “Release Owen to me right now, and I’ll give you the key. You can take your money and disappear to South America before the federal indictment clears.”
Everett stared at her, a wicked, triumphant grin spreading across his silver-bearded face. “You actually think you can negotiate with me? Once I have those documents, I’ll kill Graham, take his empire, and—”
CRASH!
The heavy wooden door to the east hallway burst inward.
Owen sprinted into the living room, his small face covered in soot, his eyes wide with terror as he ran from a guard who had been watching him in the back room.
“Claire!” Owen screamed, recognizing her immediately.
“Owen! Run!” Claire roared.
Without a second’s hesitation, Claire threw her body forward, tackling Everett Sloan around the waist with all her weight.
May you like
Everett let out a choked gasp as they both slammed into the marble hearth of the fireplace. His pistol flew out of his hand, skidding across the floorboards.
At that exact second, the floor-to-ceiling glass windows behind them exploded into a thousand glittering shards.
