Chapter 5 - THE CORRUPT SHADOW
By 2:00 AM, the abandoned logging mill had been turned into a temporary command post.
The regional medical helicopter could not land due to rising mountain fog, so Doc set up an emergency triage station inside the dryest warehouse, expertly stitching up Thomas Vance’s head wound and setting two fractured ribs.
Outside, the mountain road echoed with the sound of approaching sirens.
Three local county sheriff vehicles pulled into the mill yard, their red and blue lights painting the rusted corrugated iron walls in pulsing shades of purple.
From the lead cruiser stepped Sheriff Donald Croft—a heavy-set man in his fifties with a silver star pinned to his brown uniform jacket and a look of deep annoyance on his face.
"What in the hell is going on here?!" Sheriff Croft demanded, stepping out with his hand resting heavily on his sidearm holster. He looked at the zip-tied Vanguard mercenaries sitting in a row against the wall, then at the dozen leather-clad bikers surrounding them. "Mercer! Is this your doing?!"
Boone stepped forward, completely unbothered by the Sheriff’s aggressive posture. "Evening, Sheriff. We caught four armed men attempting to kidnap Thomas Vance and arson his property."
Sheriff Croft glanced at the leader in the duster, then back at Boone. His expression wasn't one of shock—it was one of deep frustration.
"These men are private security contractors licensed by the state, Boone," Croft said, his voice dropping into a harsh whisper as he walked closer to Boone. "You had no right to lay hands on them. You’re a charity riding club, not the damn law."
Boone’s eyes narrowed into slits. "You knew."
"What did you say?" Croft snapped.
"You knew Vanguard was on this mountain tonight," Boone said, his voice dropping into a dangerous register that made the Sheriff involuntarily step back. "Lily ran for two miles screaming for help. Her cabin was smashed to pieces. And you didn't dispatch a single unit to Route 81 tonight. Why?"
"Don't you question my department, Mercer!" Croft barked, though a bead of cold sweat broke out along his temple. "This whole ridge was designated a corporate survey zone by county ordinance last week! Vance was served a legal eviction notice!"
"An eviction notice isn't a license to execute a man and hunt a seven-year-old child!" Bear roared from behind Boone, stepping up like a mountain of muscle.
Sheriff Croft’s two deputies instinctively unholstered their tasers, but the ten Steel Ravens stepped forward in unison, creating an unbroken wall of black leather and cold, unyielding stares.
"Croft," Boone said, stepping right up to the Sheriff until they were chest-to-chest. "I’ve lived in this county for twenty years. I know how much Appalachian Timber donated to your re-election campaign last fall. I know about the new bass boat sitting in your garage."
Croft’s face went pale. "You’re making wild accusations—"
"I’m stating facts," Boone cut him off. "And right now, you have a choice. You can arrest these mercenaries for attempted murder and kidnapping, or I can call the State Police Special Investigations Bureau and deliver both these men and your campaign financial records to the federal courthouse in Raleigh by breakfast."
The silence in the mill yard was suffocating. The wind rattled the rusted metal roof of the warehouse while Croft looked at Boone, realizing he was completely outmatched, outmaneuvered, and cornered.
"Deputies," Croft spat out through clenched teeth, avoiding Boone’s eyes. "Read these men their rights. Load them into the vans. Call the state transport."
The deputies quickly complied, hauling the Vanguard contractors to their feet.
May you like
Boone turned back toward the warehouse where Thomas was sitting up on a cot.
"We’re taking Thomas and Lily to our clubhouse in Hollow Creek," Boone told Doc. "They won't be safe in a hospital or a county building until this corporate house of cards falls apart."
