Chapter 7

SEVEN

The rainstorm had passed, leaving the night air crisp and clean. Fading storm clouds lingered on the horizon, streaked with moonlight, as the private jet descended toward a small airstrip outside Pinewood Falls. Hatch watched from her window, the wheels hissing against the slick tarmac as the jet touched down. The damp air carried the scent of pine and wet earth, a contrast to the metallic hum of the engines winding down.

As the plane taxied to a stop near a weathered hangar, Hatch felt the familiar twinge of anticipation, sharpened by a subtle edge of unease. Something about this quiet, isolated town nestled in the mountains made the stakes feel more immediate. Her fingers grazed the scar on her right arm, a habit she'd developed since Afghanistan, tracing the pattern of twisted skin—a permanent reminder that missions can go south in the blink of an eye.

At the edge of the tarmac, an SUV sat in the dim light, headlights off, silhouetted by the receding storm. A tall figure stepped out, his posture straight. As he approached, Hatch noticed the way he moved—calculated, eyes scanning the periphery as if he could sense trouble lurking in the shadows. Ethan Reeves, the man assigned to escort her, gave her a brief nod of acknowledgment.

"Ms. Hatch?" he asked, his voice sharp and professional, with a touch of wariness.

"That’s me," she replied, shaking his hand firmly. "You must be Reeves."

"Ethan Reeves," he confirmed, his handshake equally firm but not lingering. "Head of security for Senator Masterson. I’ll be driving you into town."

There was no animosity in his tone, but Hatch could read the tension—this was a man who didn’t like surprises, and her presence was clearly one of them. She followed him to the SUV, the gravel crunching beneath their boots, the scent of fresh rain heavy in the cool air.

They drove in silence for the first few minutes, the engine’s low hum filling the void between them. Hatch’s eyes scanned the dark, wet roads outside, the small-town charm of Pinewood Falls revealing itself slowly as they drove past. Her eyes flicked to a freshly painted welcome sign on the town’s outskirts, the bright colors clashing against the weathered wood beneath it. Quaint houses, wooden storefronts, and sparse streetlights lined the main road. The scene stirred faint memories of Hawk's Landing, the quiet town she once called home.

But nostalgia wasn’t why she was here.

Reeves finally broke the silence, his tone tight and guarded. “I’m not sure why the Senator felt the need to bring in someone from outside. My team’s more than capable.”

Hatch let the tension roll off her. “I don’t doubt that. I’m here as an extra set of eyes, nothing more. Sometimes an outsider sees things others might miss.”

“Support,” Reeves replied, his skepticism barely hidden. “And what exactly are we looking for?”

Hatch let the question hang for a moment. “That’s what we’re here to find out, isn’t it?”

As they neared the town center, the moonlight glinted off the wet streets, giving the picturesque town a surreal quality. Hatch took in the scene—small, peaceful, the kind of place where dark secrets could hide beneath the surface. She’d seen it before.

Reeves glanced down at the scar on her arm, his eyes lingering for a second longer than necessary.

“What happened?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral.

Hatch didn’t look at him, her eyes still focused on the darkened landscape. “Afghanistan. Suicide bomber. I was lucky.”

A flicker of understanding stretched across Reeves’ face. “I’ve been in the sandbox. Know how fast things can go to shit. Split decisions made in a fraction of a second can alter the trajectory of the rest of your life.”

“Yeah,” Hatch said, her voice distant. “It happens like that sometimes. One minute you're on a routine patrol, the next...”

She trailed off, and Reeves didn’t push. “True,” he agreed quietly. There was a shift in his tone now, a softening, although he didn’t drop his guard entirely.

“How long did you serve?” Hatch asked.

“Long enough to know when my luck was running out.” Reeves cracked his knuckles. “Plus, who could pass up an easier life for better pay?”

She gestured to a scar snaking down his face to his jawline. “Is that the battle scar that gave you the epiphany?”

He nodded. “Everyone reaches their limit. Some aren’t smart enough to realize it.”

They drove on, the tension between them still present but no longer hostile. It was obvious he wasn’t thrilled with her being here, but she didn’t need his approval, nor was she seeking it.

They pulled up to a modest roadside motel, the neon sign flickering weakly against the night sky. Something familiar, comforting, in the simplicity of the motel.

“The Senator’s staying at a house he’s rented for the time he’s here. Nice spot. Plenty of room. The other members of the team are there as well. You sure you don’t want to switch accommodations? It’d be easier to keep everyone in the same place.”

Hatch shook her head. “I’m more comfortable in places like this. Easier to spot anything out of place.”

Reeves raised an eyebrow. “Suit yourself. The venue’s about a mile up the mountain from here. I’ll pick you up at 0700 to go over the op plan.”

Hatch stepped out of the SUV, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She paused before closing the door. “I know you’re not thrilled about this setup, but we’re in this together. Something tells me we’ll need to work as a team on this one.”

Reeves hesitated for a moment before giving her a curt nod. “See you in the morning, Hatch.”

As the SUV pulled away, Hatch stood alone in the dimly lit parking lot. She glanced up at the sky—the clouds had finally cleared, allowing the moon to peek through. The air smelled of pine and wet leaves, fresh and clean, but Hatch knew better.

She took a deep breath, then made her way to the motel lobby to check in. She went straight to her room after getting the key, dropped her bag on the bed and headed out the door.

The rainstorm had cleared, leaving the night air crisp, with lingering mist clinging to the ground like ghostly fingers. Hatch zipped her jacket as she set off from her motel, the cool breeze carrying pine and damp earth. The climb to Evergreen Summit Lodge—the town's most prestigious resort—was steady, the narrow streets winding upward toward the hotel nestled in the foothills. Her boots crunched over the wet gravel, the sound unnervingly loud in the stillness. Her trained eye picked out potential hiding spots along the rocky outcroppings that bordered the town. In the distance, the faint glow of white-capped mountains under moonlight was beautiful yet ominous. The terrain was perfect for a sniper, and the thought sent a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with the evening air.

By the time she reached the lodge, Hatch’s muscles were warmed, but her senses were still on edge. The resort loomed on high ground, its grand architecture bathed in the soft light of elegant lampposts. Rustic wooden beams and a stone facade gave it an air of luxury meant to blend into its natural surroundings. But to Hatch, it stood out like a beacon—a target.

The moment she entered the lobby, she was assaulted by a mix of sounds and smells. The rich aroma of roasted meats and fine spirits drifted from the dining room to her right, where glasses clinked, and low conversation mingled with soft music. To her left, a frustrated guest's voice rose above the general din at the check-in desk.

"This is unacceptable!" the woman snapped at the frazzled desk clerk. "I specifically requested a mountain-view suite!"

Hatch tuned out the complaint as she continued her visual sweep of the room. A brick fireplace flickered warmly in the center, casting a golden glow over a family of four playing Monopoly at a low table surrounded by leather couches. The idyllic setting clashed with the knot of tension forming in her gut.

Ahead, a carved wooden sign pointed toward the hallway leading to the banquet hall and guest rooms. Hatch’s attention shifted to a nearby chess table, where a man sat half-shrouded in shadow, wearing a heavy coat and a ballcap pulled low over his face. His hands absently toyed with a bishop piece, but what stood out was how his eyes scanned the room without moving his head—a telltale sign of someone assessing their surroundings.

Her instincts prickled, the familiar sensation tightening in her chest. She kept her pace casual, passing him without making direct eye contact, but her senses remained tuned to his every movement. His rugged appearance, combined with the intensity in his posture, sent warning signals. Something about him didn’t sit right, but Hatch moved on, heading toward the hallway.

She pulled open the banquet hall doors and stepped inside. The faint smell of fresh paint and cleaning products lingered in the air, mingling with the soft clatter of chairs being arranged by hotel employees. Rows of seats were being positioned in neat lines, each one narrowing the walking space, creating potential hazards for evacuation. Hatch’s gaze flicked to the expansive windows at the far end of the room. The view of the mountain vista was stunning—peaks still capped in the remnants of winter snow—but it made her stomach tighten.

Beautiful, but dangerous. The windows were a security nightmare, offering unobstructed sightlines for anyone outside with a scoped rifle. Her mind automatically calculated the distances, considering angles and potential cover spots. If someone’s out there, we’d never see them until it’s too late.

She moved slowly through the space, her eyes cataloging every detail. The two primary exits were wide and easily accessible, but that also made them vulnerable to an ambush. The smaller door in the back corner was narrow and partially obscured by a folding partition— an easy bottleneck if panic sets in. The catering entrance off to the side had a swinging door, its porthole window offering just enough visibility to spot movement from the kitchen.

The rows of chairs were tightly packed, creating choke points that could funnel people into confined spaces during an emergency. This many bodies in one place—it’s a recipe for chaos if anything goes sideways. Her gaze drifted upward to the recessed lighting and ceiling panels. No visible cameras or rigging for surveillance— a blind spot that’s begging to be exploited.

Hatch paused by the podium at the front of the room, running a hand along the edge of the wood. From here, the senator would be completely exposed. The raised platform gave him visibility to the crowd, but it also left him vulnerable from nearly every angle. She turned, scanning the audience area again. We’ll need at least one person near the stage and another near the back wall. Eyes everywhere. And someone needs to secure the kitchen access—it’s too close to the main event space.

It was the kind of place where things could turn ugly fast if security wasn’t airtight. And judging by the setup so far, Hatch knew there was work to be done.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" a young employee with a clipboard approached. "Are you with the event staff?"

Hatch nodded. "Just getting a lay of the land. Big day tomorrow, right?"

"Yes, ma'am. Biggest event we’ve had all year."

She slipped out through the doors on the opposite side of the fireplace, re-entering the lobby. Her eyes flicked back to the chess table. The man was gone.

Alarm bells rang in her head as she spotted him moving toward the far hallway, his shoulders hunched, head down. He dipped his head low, using the brim of the hat to obscure his face as if deliberately avoiding the security camera in the corner. His movements were quick, purposeful.

Hatch’s pulse quickened, adrenaline spiking as she followed. Just as she neared the side exit, a group of rowdy teens barreled down the stairs, laughing and shoving, towels slung over their shoulders. They crashed into Hatch, nearly knocking her off balance.

"Watch it!" she snapped, frustration lacing her voice as she steadied herself.

"Sorry, lady!" one of the teens called back, barely bothering to sound apologetic.

By the time Hatch cleared the teenagers, the man was gone. She cursed under her breath, pushing through the side exit and stepping into the cool night. Her breath hung in the air as she scanned the parking lot. An engine revved nearby, drawing her attention just as blinding headlights flashed on. A Jeep sat idling, its lights aimed directly at her, obscuring the driver.

Squinting through the glare, Hatch shielded her eyes, trying to make out the silhouette behind the wheel. The man lingered just long enough to make sure she saw him before peeling out, tires kicking up gravel as the Jeep roared away into the night.

Hatch stood still for a beat, her senses still heightened, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Something wasn’t right. Whoever that man was, he wasn’t just a passerby.

As the taillights of the Jeep disappeared down the road, Hatch exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the cold night air. She’d need to bring this up with Reeves first thing in the morning. But for now, she had time to think—and prepare for whatever lay ahead.