Chapter 7 - The Cabin
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The ride took two hours. The driver was a chatty old man named Harold who didn't seem to notice or care that I was sweating through my shirt.
"Beautiful country up here," he said. "Quiet. Peaceful. You visiting family?"
"Something like that."
"Heard there's been some trouble down in the city. Police stuff. You know anything about that?"
"No."
"Shame. World's going crazy."
I stared out the window. Trees. Dark. Endless.
The cabin appeared out of nowhere. A small structure—logs and stone—nestled in a clearing. No lights. No car. Nothing to suggest anyone was here.
But someone was.
I paid Harold. Told him not to wait. He drove off, headlights disappearing into the trees.
I stood there. Alone. The cabin loomed ahead.
I walked up to the door. Knocked.
Nothing.
I knocked again. Harder.
"Hello? Is anyone there?"
A sound. Behind me. A twig snapping.
I spun around.
A man stepped out of the shadows. Old. Gray beard. Rifle in his hands.
"Who the hell are you?"
"My name's Marcus. Marcus DeLuca. I'm looking for—"
"I know who you're looking for." He lowered the rifle. "You're Tony's boy."
"You knew my father?"
"I knew him better than anyone." He gestured to the cabin. "Come inside. We have a lot to talk about."
The cabin was small. Sparse. A fireplace. A table. Two chairs. A bed in the corner.
The man—he said his name was Frank—poured two glasses of whiskey. Handed me one.
"Drink. You look like you need it."
I drank. The liquid burned going down.
"Your father was my partner. Twenty years. We ran the restaurant together. Before your mother took over."
"Took over?"
"After Tony died. She said it was too painful. Said she wanted to sell. But she didn't sell. She kept it. Changed the name. Changed everything."
"She said it was for us. For the family."
"Everything she does is for the family." Frank's voice was bitter. "That's what she always says."
"You knew she was laundering money?"
"I found out. Too late. By the time I realized what was happening, it was too deep. I tried to get out. She threatened to kill me."
"Why didn't you go to the police?"
"I did. They laughed at me. Said I was crazy. Said I had no proof." He took a long drink. "Then my house burned down. My wife died in the fire. I got the message."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It was twenty years ago." He set down his glass. "Why are you here?"
"My sister sent me. She said you have evidence."
"I have something better than evidence." He stood up. Walked to the fireplace. Reached behind it. Pulled out a metal box.
"This is the original ledger. Every transaction. Every payment. Every name."
He opened the box. Handed me a leather-bound book.
"Your father kept this. He was planning to go to the feds. Before your mother found out."
"How did she find out?"
"She had help." He sat back down. "Someone on the inside. Someone who knew your father's every move."
"Who?"
"I don't know. But your father suspected. He told me... if anything happened to him, I should tell you."
"Tell me what?"
"That the person who betrayed him... was family."
I thought about Dad's video. The fear in his eyes. Don't trust anyone. Not even—
"Not even who?"
"He didn't finish. But I've spent twenty years trying to figure it out."
I opened the ledger. Pages and pages of names. Dates. Amounts.
"This is everything?"
"Everything. Enough to bring down half the city."
I closed the book. Held it tight.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet." Frank stood up. Walked to the window. "They're coming."
"What?"
"Your mother. She knows about this place. She's known for years. She just never thought anyone would be stupid enough to come here."
"We have to go."
"Too late." He pointed. Through the trees, I could see headlights. Two cars. Maybe three. "They're already here."
I ran to the door. Looked out.
Mom stepped out of the first car. She wasn't alone. Uncle Ray. Danny. Sophie.
And someone else. Someone I didn't recognize.
"Marcus!" Mom's voice echoed through the clearing. "Come out. Let's talk."
Frank grabbed my arm. "There's a back door. Go."
"What about you?"
"I'm too old to run. But I can buy you time."
"Frank—"
"Go!" He pushed me toward the back. "Don't stop. Don't look back. And whatever you do—don't let them get that ledger."
I ran.
Behind me, I heard the front door crash open. Voices. Shouts.
A gunshot.
I didn't stop.
I crashed through the trees. Branches whipped my face. Roots caught my feet. But I kept running.
The ledger was clutched against my chest.
Dad's last hope.
Karen's only chance.
I ran until I couldn't run anymore. Until my legs gave out. Until I collapsed beside a stream.
I lay there. Gasping. Crying.
And then I heard it.
Footsteps.
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