Chapter 33

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

T he SUV bounced along the dirt road, kicking up dust in its wake. Sam gripped the steering wheel, his jaw clenched. Beside him, Jo scanned the surroundings, her green eyes sharp. Lucy sat at attention in the back.

“There.” Jo pointed. “That must be it.”

Sam followed her gaze. Nestled on a cliffside, a small cabin came into view. Obsidian Enterprises’ property. Remote. Isolated. The perfect place for shady dealings.

He slowed and pulled off to the side. In the car behind them, Kevin and Wyatt did the same. They didn’t want anyone in the cabin to know they were there, so they spoke in whispers and kept out of view.

“Someone’s here.” Kevin nodded toward the car parked beside the cabin.

They approached on foot, steps measured, hands hovering near their holsters. The cabin was a ramshackle affair of weathered boards and peeling paint. But the view—that was something else. Breathtaking vistas of the valley below stretched to the horizon.

Sam gestured to a grimy window. They peered inside.

“Shoot,” Jo breathed.

Dominic Hartman, bound to a chair. A young, wiry man pacing nearby—probably one of Nathan Rickman’s thugs that he had do his dirty work. And there, in the corner, the unmistakable figure of Nathan Rickman.

Sam’s pulse quickened. He met Jo’s gaze, a silent understanding passing between them. It was time to move.

“Kevin, Wyatt, take the back,” Sam whispered. “Jo and I will take the front. Wait for my signal.”

Kevin and Wyatt disappeared around the corner, footsteps silent. Sam caught Jo’s eye again. They’d been in tough spots before, but this—this felt different.

Lucy chuffed, her body tense, waiting for the action. Sam laid a hand on her head, a silent reassurance.

“Ready?” he mouthed to Jo.

She nodded, her jaw set. They moved into position, and Sam tried the knob. The door opened, and they rushed through.

“Police! Hands where I can see them!”

Chaos erupted. Shouts, scuffling, the unmistakable bang of gunshots. Sam and Jo dove for cover behind a cabinet as splinters flew.

“Drop your weapons!” Jo yelled, her voice steady.

Across the room, Kevin and Wyatt burst through the back door. More shots.

The thug swung his gun toward them, cool and calculating.

Sam’s heart pounded. He risked a glance around the cabinet. Hartman struggled against his bonds, chair scraping the floor. Rickman, a cruel sneer on his face, had his gun leveled at Jo.

Lucy growled, hackles raised, ready to spring. Sam’s breath caught. In a standoff like this, one wrong move...

He met Kevin’s gaze, a split-second decision. They had to end this, fast, before things spiraled out of control.

But then came the unexpected. Hartman made his move.

The scene unfolded in slow motion. Lucy coiled, ready to spring. Kevin’s finger tightened on the trigger. But before either could act, Hartman sprang into action.

With a grunt of effort, Hartman surged to his feet, the chair still tied to his back. He lunged, slamming into the thug with the full force of his weight.

The two men crashed to the floor, a tangle of limbs and splintered wood. The minion’s gun skittered across the floorboards, spinning out of reach.

“Gun!” Sam barked.

Wyatt, quick as a cat, dove for the weapon. His fingers closed around the grip, and he rolled, coming up in a crouch, the gun trained on the struggling men.

Sam kept his sights locked on Rickman, heart pounding. The man’s face was a mask of fury, his own gun still leveled at the room.

But Rickman didn’t shoot. Instead, he turned and bolted for the back door.

“He’s running!” Jo shouted.

Sam cursed under his breath. They couldn’t let Rickman escape. Not now, not when they were so close.

“Kevin, Wyatt, secure the scene,” he ordered. “Jo, with me. We’re going after Rickman.”

Lucy, hackles still raised, fell into step beside them as they raced out the back, hot on Rickman’s heels.

Sam’s lungs burned as he ran, Jo at his side, Lucy rushing ahead. Rickman was fast for an older man, his desperation fueling his speed.

Low brush whipped at Sam’s legs as branches snatched at his clothes. The forest was a blur of green and brown, the ground uneven beneath his feet.

“Where’s he going?” Jo panted, her words punctuated by ragged breaths.

Sam’s mind raced. The property backed onto the cliff, he remembered. But surely, Rickman wouldn’t...

A sickening realization hit him. “The cliff,” he managed, his voice tight. “He’s heading for the cliff.”

They burst from the tree line, the sudden brightness of the open air momentarily blinding. Sam blinked, his eyes adjusting.

The view was breathtaking: a vast expanse of sky, the valley stretching out below like a painted canvas. But there, at the edge, was Rickman.

Sam’s heart stopped. The cliff’s edge was a jagged thing, all sharp rocks and crumbling earth. It was a long, steep drop to the winding river below, the water churning and frothing over boulders.

Rickman stood at the precipice, his chest heaving. He glanced back, his eyes wild.

“Rickman!” Sam shouted, his hand outstretched. “Don’t do it. There’s nowhere to go.”

But even as the words left his mouth, Sam knew. He saw it in Rickman’s face, in the set of his shoulders.

The man was going to jump.

Lucy growled, her body coiled tight. Jo’s hand hovered over her holster.

“It’s over, Rickman,” Jo called, her voice steady despite the chaos. “Come back from the edge.”

Rickman’s laugh was a bitter, broken sound. He shook his head, his feet shifting on the uneven ground. “You don’t understand,” he spat. “I won’t go to prison. I don’t have much time left, and I won’t spend it rotting in a cell.”

He took a step back, his heel hanging over the void. Sam’s breath caught in his throat.

Time seemed to slow. Rickman’s eyes met Sam’s.

And then he jumped.

But even as Rickman’s body tipped backward, a blur of fur and muscle shot past.

Lucy leaped, her jaws wide. She seemed to hang suspended in the air, a silent, snarling guardian.

Her teeth closed on Rickman’s sleeve, and the two tumbled to the ground, a tangle of thrashing limbs and snapping jaws.

Sam’s heart stopped. They were too close to the edge, the crumbling rock giving way beneath their struggle. Rickman hung from the edge. The only thing keeping him from dropping was Lucy’s grip on his sleeve.

Lucy’s claws scrabbled for purchase, her powerful haunches straining. But Rickman fought like a man possessed, his free hand clawing at the dog’s face.

“Lucy!” Sam’s voice cracked, fear and desperation warring in his chest.

He lunged forward, his fingers closing around Lucy’s vest. The fabric bit into his palms, his muscles screaming as he heaved backward.

But it wasn’t enough. Inch by terrible inch, they slid closer to the abyss.

Jo appeared at Sam’s side, her hands joining his on Lucy’s vest.

“Hold on,” she gritted out, her face a mask of determination. “Pull!”

Together, they strained against the inexorable pull of gravity. Sam’s heart hammered against his ribs, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Rickman twisted, his hand finding Lucy’s throat. The dog yelped but kept her grip.

“You’ll never take me alive,” he snarled, his eyes wild. “Never!”

With a final, desperate heave, the fabric of his sleeve tore, the sound sharp and sudden in the chaos.

With a scream, Rickman pitched backward into the void.

Lucy lunged, her jaws snapping shut on empty air. Sam and Jo hauled her back, their chests heaving, their hearts in their throats.

They collapsed in a heap, the ground solid beneath them. Sam clutched at Lucy, burying his face in her fur, his body shaking with adrenaline and relief.

But even as they caught their breath, the reality of what had just happened began to sink in.

Rickman was gone, and with him, the answer to many of their questions.

Sam and Jo approached the cliff’s edge, their steps cautious on the uneven ground. The adrenaline of the chase still thrummed in Sam’s veins, his heart pounding in the aftermath.

They peered over the precipice, the wind whipping at their hair and clothes. Far below, the river churned, its waters white and frothing as it wound through the jagged rocks.

And there, on a narrow ledge beside the raging torrent, lay Rickman.

Even from this distance, Sam could tell the man was dead. His body was splayed at an unnatural angle, his limbs twisted and bent in ways that made Sam’s stomach turn. He lay face down, his head at an odd angle. One arm was stretched out, fingers clawing at the rock as if he’d tried to stop his fall at the last moment.

A dark stain spread out beneath him, seeping into the cracks and crevices of the stone.

“We need to call it in,” he said. “Get a recovery team out here. And we need to make sure Kevin and Wyatt have things under control.”

Jo nodded, already reaching for her radio. She spoke into the receiver as they hurried back to the cabin.

Wyatt and Kevin had the thug tied up in the chair. Hartman had been untied and was sitting at the table, Kevin dabbing at a cut on his face with a tissue.

“What happened to Rickman?” Kevin asked, his voice tight.

Sam shook his head. “Dead. Went over the cliff.”

Wyatt let out a low whistle. “Darn.”

“Hartman,” Sam said, crossing the room. “You okay?”

The old man shrugged, wincing slightly at the movement. “I’ve had worse.”

“That was quite a move.” Sam nodded toward the thug, “Rushing him while tied up.”

Hartman rubbed his wrists, his eyes distant. “It was the least I could do. I figured it was time I tried to redeem myself. Even if it was just a small chance.”

Sam felt a pang of sympathy. He knew the weight of past mistakes, the burden of trying to make things right.

Sam turned back to Kevin. “He give you anything?” he asked, jerking his chin toward the prisoner.

Kevin shrugged. “Says he works for Rickman. Does whatever the boss tells him.”

Sam crouched, bringing his face level with the thug’s. “That include dragging bodies into the lake?”

The man’s eyes widened, a flicker of fear passing over his face. He licked his lips, his gaze darting between Sam and the others. “I think,” he said slowly, his voice trembling slightly, “I want a lawyer.”

Sam sighed. They’d lost Rickman, but maybe this guy could give them some answers. “Okay, let’s get this guy back to the station and processed. We may have a long night ahead of us.”