Chapter 12 - The Blood on the Threshold
The peaceful country morning had dissolved into an absolute nightmare by the time I reached the Miller homestead.
The heavy wooden front gate was blown off its hinges, crushed flat into the dirt by an armored bumper.
Smoke billowed from the roof of the barn, thick and gray against the cloudless sky.
I drew my sidearm, keeping both hands locked tight as I moved up the gravel driveway.
Spent brass shell casings carpeted the stone walkway like deadly gold coins.
The front porch, where Julianne had sat holding Clara only forty minutes ago, was shattered and stained with crimson.
Sheriff Marcus Miller was slumped against the front doorframe, his crisp tan uniform soaked in blood.
Two bullet wounds had punched through his right shoulder and lower abdomen.
He was pressing a torn towel against his side, his breath whistling through clenched teeth.
"Marcus!" I dropped to my knees beside him, pressing hard against the abdominal wound to stem the bleeding.
"Don't worry about me... Maya... go after them..." he groaned, his eyes rolling back in delirium.
"Who took them, Marcus? Where is Julianne?" I demanded, scanning the blood-splattered yard.
"Raymond Sterling..." Marcus coughed, spitting dark blood onto the floorboards.
"Conrad was just the dog on the leash... Sterling owns the state senate... he owns the timber lines..."
Marcus grabbed my jacket with trembling, blood-slicked fingers.
"Julianne’s late husband... he didn't die in an accident... he stole Sterling’s offshore distribution codes..."
"They took Julianne and Clara to the old iron foundry at Blackwood Ridge."
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"Maya, Conrad’s basement... behind the water heater... there’s an iron lockbox."
"Take the ledger... it's the only bargaining chip that will keep my grandbaby breathing."
