Chapter 8 - THE HUNT THROUGH BLACKWATER
A shot cracked across the field.
Bark exploded from the tree beside Claire's head.
She dropped into a drainage ditch and crawled through mud while Daniel shouted her name.
"Claire! Stop running!"
As if he were still her husband calling her home.
She reached an old equipment shed and locked the door behind her. Her phone had one bar of signal. She sent the video to Grace with three words:
HE IS ALIVE.
Footsteps circled the shed.
Daniel's voice came through the wall. "You don't understand what your father did."
"Then explain it."
"He stole everything from my family."
"Your father stole millions and faked his death."
"Because Richard was going to bury him."
Claire searched the shed. Rusted tools. Empty fuel cans. A narrow loft.
The door shuddered under Daniel's shoulder.
"Open it," he said. "I don't want to hurt you."
Claire almost laughed. "You already did."
The wood split.
She climbed into the loft and kicked out a back panel, landing hard in wet grass. Pain shot through her ankle, but she kept moving.
A black truck raced toward her.
Grace was driving.
Claire jumped in as bullets struck the tailgate.
They tore down the dirt road.
"Federal agents are coming," Grace said.
"How long?"
"Not fast enough."
In the mirror, Daniel and Thomas followed in an SUV.
The road ended at an old bridge over a swollen river.
A farm tractor blocked the far side.
Grace slammed the brakes.
The SUV stopped behind them.
Thomas stepped out with a rifle.
Daniel stood beside him, pale and shaking.
Thomas aimed at Claire.
Daniel suddenly pushed the barrel aside.
The shot fired into the river.
Thomas struck his son across the face.
May you like
"Weak," he said.
Then he aimed again—this time at Daniel.
