Chapter 4 - The Threat at the Threshold
Eric didn't hesitate. His tactical reflexes, honed by years of managing breach-and-clear operations in hostile territory, took over completely. He turned back to Brenda, his face an unreadable mask of military precision.
"Stay in this room. If you try to leave, or if you try to help them, I will personally ensure you spend the rest of your life in a state penitentiary," he said, his voice flat and unyielding.
He walked out of the bedroom, locking the door from the outside, ignoring Brenda’s sudden, frantic pounding against the wood. He moved swiftly down the stairs, pausing at the hallway closet to retrieve his personal weapon—a legal, registered 9mm pistol—and slid it into the waistband of his jeans beneath his heavy jacket. He didn't want a firefight, but he was a soldier, and he knew never to enter a negotiation unarmed.
He opened the front door just as the two men in suits reached the porch steps. Myrtle stood behind them, her arms crossed, her face cold and triumphant.
"Eric McKenzie," the younger of the two men said, pulling a sleek leather wallet from his jacket and flashing a private investigator badge. "My name is Vance. This is my associate, Mr. Vance Jr. We represent the Savage family estate and its legal assets. We understand you have taken a minor child, Emma McKenzie, from her lawful legal guardian's property without permission."
"Lawful legal guardian?" Eric laughed, a cold, humorless sound. "The woman behind you is a child abuser and a murderer. I suggest you take your badges and your suits and get off my property before I count to three."
The older investigator, Vance Sr., stepped forward, his eyes scanning Eric’s military posture with a professional, calculating gaze. "Mr. McKenzie, we are well aware of your distinguished military record. But the law is the law. Your wife signed a legally binding temporary guardianship contract. Mrs. Savage has full legal custody of Emma until a family court judge says otherwise. If you don't hand the child over right now, we will file charges for kidnapping, and your military career will be over by noon."
"You don't care about a guardianship contract, Vance," Eric said, leaning against the doorframe, his hand resting casually inside his jacket pocket, his fingers wrapped around the grip of his pistol. "You care about what's buried in the backyard of that farmhouse. You’re not private investigators. You’re cleanup crew. Myrtle hired you to make sure the Sarah Chun story stays under the dirt."
The two men exchanged a rapid, subtle glance. The younger investigator’s hand drifted slightly toward the inside of his own coat.
"We don't know what you're talking about, McKenzie," Vance Sr. said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, threatening register. "But these mountains are very large. People get lost in them all the time. Soldiers returning from deployment often suffer from severe PTSD. They see things that aren't there. They make tragic mistakes. It would be a shame if something happened to you before you could enjoy your retirement."
"One," Eric said clearly.
"Don't be a fool, Eric," Myrtle snapped from the driveway. "Give me the girl, and we can make all of this go away. I’ll even let Brenda keep the house."
"Two," Eric continued, his eyes locked onto the younger investigator’s hand.
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"Let’s go," Vance Sr. muttered to his partner, realizing that the man standing in front of them wasn't a civilian who could be intimidated by a legal threat or a vague warning. "We’ll handle this through the proper channels, McKenzie. Enjoy the house while you still have it."
They turned and walked back to the black SUV, Myrtle following them, cursing under her breath. Eric watched them pull out of the driveway, the gravel crunching beneath their tires. He knew they weren't giving up. They were going to get a legal warrant, or they were going to wait until nightfall to finish the job. He had to move, and he had to move now.
