Chapter 8

EIGHT

The cool morning air bit at Rachel Hatch's face as she stepped outside her motel room, her boots crunching softly on the gravel. A black SUV idled by the curb, its engine humming in the quiet dawn. The streets of Pinewood Falls were just beginning to stir, the scent of fresh-baked bread from the nearby bakery mingling with the crisp mountain air. Hatch had already completed her morning run, cataloging the town's potential vulnerabilities—the narrow alleyways, the overgrown mining tunnels snaking through the hillside, and the dilapidated structures perfect for hiding. But her mind kept circling back to the man she’d seen the night before. The man who didn’t belong.

Reeves stood by the SUV, arms crossed, his expression impenetrable. The man was efficient, no-nonsense, and he still clearly wasn’t thrilled about Hatch’s involvement. She kept her own body language neutral. Friction between them wasn’t going to help the mission.

"Morning," Hatch greeted, shaking off the last traces of chill from her skin.

“Figured I’d pick you up early. We’ve got a walkthrough in an hour, but I want to go over a few things first." He pulled open the passenger door—a motion that felt more like formality than courtesy.

Sliding into the seat, Hatch felt the low rumble of the engine beneath her. As the SUV pulled away, she glanced out the window. Quaint shops with hand-painted signs, old-fashioned lampposts, and hanging baskets of mountain flowers blurred by.

"I saw something last night," Hatch started, keeping her voice deliberately casual. "A guy in the lobby at the resort—muddy boots, baseball cap pulled low, and he was avoiding the cameras like it was second nature. You got anyone from your team posted there?"

Reeves didn’t take his eyes off the road. "Nobody from my team was on-site. This town draws all kinds. Could be nothing. Could just be some drifter."

The dismissiveness in his tone grated on Hatch, but she held back, instead casting her eyes toward the looming Evergreen Summit Lodge, its elegant exterior gleaming in the early light. To a casual observer, it was a luxury resort nestled into the rugged mountains. To Hatch, it looked more like a bullseye.

They soon arrived at the senator’s rented estate—an imposing, high-end home nestled in the foothills. The security team was already in place, and the tension in the air was thick enough to cut. Reeves parked, and Hatch adjusted her jacket, her hand briefly brushing the Glock hidden beneath it—a comforting presence.

Inside the home, Hatch was introduced to Senator William Masterson. Reeves’ voice was tight as he garnered Masterson’s attention. "Senator, this is Rachel Hatch. She’s here to add extra protection to your detail, per your request."

He had the practiced confidence of a career politician—sharp eyes that appraised her in a heartbeat, a firm handshake that spoke of control, and an air of authority that demanded attention. His aide, Nathan Sawyer, hovered nearby, clearly uncomfortable in the presence of so many hardened professionals. He seemed as out of place as a lamb in a den of wolves.

Masterson’s calculating eyes lingered on Hatch for a moment. "Ms. Hatch, I appreciate your presence. With any luck, your services will only be necessary for this morning’s town hall meeting we’re holding at the resort."

Hatch returned the look, as if eyeing the man back could tell her everything she needed to know about him. The devil was always in the details. But this wasn’t her op, she reminded herself. She was just an extra body. Nothing more. "Just here to make sure everything runs smoothly, Senator."

Masterson’s tone shifted, revealing a flicker of unease behind his polished exterior. "The threats we’ve received have been unsettling, to say the least. But nothing concrete so far, right?" He glanced at Reeves, seeking reassurance.

"Not really," Reeves said, his voice calm but firm. "Most of the threats are vague—anonymous letters and emails. The usual noise. "

Hatch’s brow furrowed. "Anything specific in the threats? "

"Like I said, it’s just noise for now. Everyone’s got an opinion these days. With all the social media platforms, every asshole with a keyboard can wage their own personal war. Lucky for us, they rarely act on it." Reeves’ tone was almost dismissive. "Don’t get me wrong. That doesn’t mean we can afford to let our guard down. It only takes one lunatic to turn words into action."

Reeves motioned for the team to gather around the large table in the conference room, where maps and logistics sheets were spread out in meticulous order. He quickly took charge of the briefing, his delivery rehearsed and methodical.

"Arrival is set for 11:00," he began, tracing the route on the map with his finger. "We’ll be moving in a three-car caravan. The senator and Nathan will be in the middle car. We’ll be entering through the main lobby. That's our tightest spot, the most vulnerable. Local law enforcement will be managing protestors outside, and once we get the senator inside, it's a straight shot to the banquet hall."

Hatch’s eyes followed the route on the map, memorizing every detail as Reeves continued outlining the plan. Reeves discussed potential choke points, escape routes, and places where an attacker could strike. He’d hit on most of the weaknesses her previous night’s reconnaissance had gathered.

"Once the senator is onstage and security is in place, we'll let citizens in for the meeting. Protestors will remain outside. Afterward, we’ll escort the senator through the side exit to the vehicles, and we’re out. Any questions?"

Hatch’s attention lingered on the high ground she'd scouted the night before, the memory of that man—avoiding the cameras—nagging at her.

"That elevated terrain outside the resort could pose a problem," she said, pointing to the map. "It’s wide open. Perfect vantage point."

Reeves frowned, a flash of irritation crossing his face. "We’ll have it covered. But so far, there’s no indication of any serious threat."

“Any serious, well-planned threat isn’t going to reveal itself until it’s already too late.” Hatch pressed. "That man I mentioned.. He didn’t strike me as a tourist."

"I’ll pass the description on to the sheriff. He and his deputies will be our eyes on the ground before we arrive."

Hatch could infer from his tone, his message clear. This discussion was over.

“Sounds like I’m in good hands.” Masterson glanced between them. " Let’s stay sharp."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the tension between Hatch and Reeves palpable. Reeves wasn’t entirely sold on her input, but she wasn’t here to win a popularity contest. Her job was to make sure the senator got through this event alive, and she wasn’t about to let a dismissive attitude get in the way.

As the briefing wrapped up, Hatch couldn’t shake the feeling that the man at the lodge was no drifter. Her instincts—those she had learned to trust over years in the field—told her they were grossly underprepared for whatever was coming.

And if she was right, they wouldn’t see it until it was too late.